


Values Dissonance

by SpookedRabbits



Series: More Than A Priest [3]
Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Accidental Orphanage, Battle, F/M, Flashbacks, Friends to Lovers, Mid-War Drama, Past Relationship(s), Priest Kink, Reconciliation, Referenced Pre-Marital Sex, Talking, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-05
Updated: 2015-01-17
Packaged: 2018-03-05 12:43:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 44,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3120587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpookedRabbits/pseuds/SpookedRabbits
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Robin's memories return to her in splinters and specks, treasured pieces which she holds very dear. One particular memory, carelessly mentioned, is enough to show Robin the stark differences between two neighbouring countries. In the middle of a war, with too much on her plate, Robin finds out exactly what makes a friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hold Your Memories Close

**Author's Note:**

> This story is unbeta'd, like the rest of 'em. Warning is for future battle, in which Libra gets roughed up. Spoiler Alert.

"Don't play with that."

Chrom froze, his hand inches away from the meticulously carved figure he had been about to pick up and inspect. He tilted his head at Robin, who had looked up from her hunched position over the weapon inventory and was currently pinning him down with an intense stare.

"Please, I need them to stay where they are," she continued, breaking eye contact and running her hands through snarled white hair. "I've got about a dozen different options for each strike team in my head and those base positions are the only thing stopping them from becoming a jumbled mess."

Chrom turned his eyes back to the table, starting to pick out the pattern in the figures that had before seemed randomly placed. "You have positions for everyone?" he inquired, motioning to the table; Robin nodded, getting to her feet with a speed that prompted a strained smile from Chrom. Eager to show off, even bone tired and suffering the loss of –

No time to think about that for now.

Robin stepped up to his side, her warmth chasing away the chill of the evening, and silently surveyed the setting with him. The moment they had set up a semi-permanent camp, Robin had commandeered one of the larger mess tables, pulled out every map of Valm she could find from the last fifty years and butchered them.

Two hours' feverish work had produced a sewn together scaled map of the area that covered the whole six foot long table – she had even raised parts of the map to form tiny hills and valleys, her flowing script noting key areas of defense that could prove useful to their advance. Tiny figures daubed messily with different shades of paint dotted the paper landscape, inked with symbols that Chrom only vaguely recognized.

Chrom had never seen her take a fight so seriously, and even he had to admit he was champing at the bit, waiting for the reports to come back on the readiness of their enemy. Though he had a hard time deciphering the multi-layered tactical display, made harder by Robin's own personal, possibly mystical shorthand, he knew his tactician well enough to know how her thoughts were proceeding.

"You've put Cordelia and Sumia a shade too far back from where you've accounted for the mounts," he noted gently, and Robin visibly stiffened. "If Frederick and Stahl are engaged before meeting with Libra and Vaike, your foot soldiers will be left facing at least a battalion on their own."

"From past encounters, I am certain there will be a large concentration of ranged united just beyond Frederick and Stahl's position," Robin said tartly, leaning over to lightly touch a figure. She had foregone her usual cloak, complaining of the heat, and the lamplight cast a buttery glow over her skin that Chrom found very appealing. "I've placed Ricken and Miriel there to head them off, with Sully as backup in case things get heavy for them – "

"Miriel's training diligently, but she's still not as apt with her sword as I'd like her to be," Chrom broke in, receiving a stern frown from Robin for interrupting, but nothing more. "Are you sure you want to put her so far beyond their front lines, especially with Ricken?"

"She's got the best aim in the army," Robin said flatly. "I don't – " Robin stopped and squeezed her eyes shut, inhaling deeply through her nose. Chrom felt a pang of regret coil around his heart at the effect his words had on her, and clapped a friendly hand on her shoulder, trying to ignore the smooth, warm skin under his suddenly too-sensitive fingers.

"You're especially fond of Ricken, I know you wouldn't want top put him into any more danger than necessary," he said gently, and Robin nodded, eyes still firmly closed. "Even so, if I may propose a solution?" Robin cracked open an eye, the corner of her mouth lifting ever so slightly.

"Is this going to be similar to your 'let's politely ask the enemy to pack up their war engines and go home' suggestion from yesterday?" she teased, and a rush of relief went through Chrom at her softening expression.

"In my defense, Robin, we'd spent three hours on maneuvering around one hillock and skipped dinner as a result," he answered lightly. "I'd just been hoping to wrap things up a bit quicker." Robin laughed at this, her face relaxing into a genuine, if weary smile.

"I promise, no skipping dinner this time," she said, and Chrom took this as his cue to continue.

"Take Panne out of the eastern guard and beef up your strike team," he said, and Robin's eyes instantly swiveled back to the table, lips moving silently as she sized up the possible outcomes of such a move. "I'll take her place in the guard," Chrom continued. "I'm well practiced at swinging a sword, while Panne's a hard hitter and the arrows won't even faze her at this point."

"Good point," Robin conceded. "Remember when she came back with her hide feathered with arrows - "

"And complained more about the fried beets at dinner than us having to spend a half hour cutting them out?" Chrom finished, chuckling. Robin grinned wider, and moved the tiny, carved taguel figure from it's original position to the cluster of units penetrating the enemy lines.

"Good call," she conceded agreeably. Her eyes landed on the two winged carvings that represented their primary aerial units, and her smile soured.

"I don't want to put Sumia or Cordelia any closer, Chrom," she said firmly. "Cordelia's excellent at anticipating and adjusting for ranged attacks, but Sumia has no where near her skill level. She's always coming back nursing a burn or limping from an arrow graze, and eventually her injuries will catch up and she'll catch an arrow with her stomach." Chrom flinched at her choice of words, but Robin's face only hardened further.

"The risk of placing them closer is much higher, even to shave those few minutes off their response time," she finished, but Chrom was already shaking his head.

"The chances of Libra and Vaike being overwhelmed is greater than the girls being struck down," Chrom argued, and Robin swirled to face him, her eyes darkening in annoyance,

"Virion's in the hills as overwatch in case they need to leapfrog out," she snapped, a muscle in her cheek spasming, a sure sign she knew she would regret what she next said later. "Really, Chrom, this quibbling over such a minor detail is ridiculous. I'd have thought you'd be more concerned over the wellbeing of your _wife_!" The last word was spat with a venom Robin didn't normally show.

The carvings flew across the room as Chrom's fist hit the table, the oil lamp wobbling dangerously. "Don't take my desire to see you do your job properly as a lack of concern for Sumia!" He still couldn't say that word.

His words seemed to echo for a moment, then suffocate quickly in the thick silence that fell over the tent. The rage inside him was shot through abruptly with grief at the raw look on Robin's face, which was quickly shuttered away behind a stony expression he'd become very familiar with recently.

"I apologize," she said quietly. "That was an uncalled for comment." She meekly brushed passed him, and for a moment Chrom was lost to a brief time when he had held Robin as his own, believing with all his being he would wake to her face each day. Most women seemed to smell floral - like lavender - or delicate, like cinnamon or vanilla. Robin smelled like woodsmoke, cloves and tea, a tough aroma that was so  _her_. Now his senses were full of it, and he was married and they were different.

Robin bent down and began to pick up her scattered pieces, waving off Chrom as he tried to help."No it's – it's fine."

Chrom floundered, trying to find the right words, and rushed ahead with it anyway. "I know you're still hurting from Emmeryn, but I know  _you know_  that loss is a part of war. You can't account for every possibility, and you'll drive yourself mad trying."

Robin straightened up, her hands full with the representatives of her precious units, and stared off distantly. "I'm just tired of losing things," she said finally, dumping the pieces onto the table with more force than necessary, a few pieces shooting across the maps and almost clattering to the floor again.

"I suppose it would have been too much to ask, for Validar to have sent a letter mentioning that, incidentally, I could be considered of noble station," Robin said wryly, and bitterly amused smile twisting her lips. Chrom smiled weakly at her, conscientiously straightening the maps he had sent askew.

"I never knew the depths of his true evil," he offered, and was pleasantly surprised when it prompted a peal of laughter from his tactician.

"Serves us right, I suppose!" she said, grinning. They held each other's gaze for a moment longer, each searching the other's face for a spark of remembered affection. But the dinner bell broke the spell, and Chrom rubbed the back of his head sheepishly.

"I – sorry about the table," he said. Robin shrugged, beginning to reset the pieces with, he noted, Sumia and Cordelia situated slightly closer to Libra and Vaike.

"I'm only thankful you didn't shatter it, you've been overdue to break something huge," she prodded, and Chrom laughed before he could stop himself. "You go on ahead; I'm just going to quickly finish up here." Chropm nodded, and wash just about to exit the tent he heard - "Oh, wait!"

He whirled around, his heart leaping into his throat for some reason. Perhaps it was the tone of her voice, or something that had been said, or not said or –

"Could you please set aside some of the bread for me?" Robin asked, bent over the table once again, her striking figure outlined by the lamplight. "The last village we went through had a marvelous baker and Stahl has been inhaling it."

Chrom nodded numbly, but she didn't look up. "Sure." Then he was gone.

* * *

After finalizing her new troop positions, Robin spent a few minutes shuffling and reshuffling every bit of paper on her desk, arranging her elixirs by colour and almost setting her cot on fire when she got a little over-enthusiastic flipping through an Arcfire tome, sending white-hot sparks fluttering through her tent.

Finally, after making a thorough mess of her work area despite her best efforts to the contrary, Robin was willing to concede she had no other reason to avoid dinner. She suspected it was the early summer, with spring still lingering like a hopeful pony at the fence, which had sent the camp slightly…mad.

The other day, she had noticed Lon'qu trailing behind Panne as she gathered herbs, which was not an odd occurrence as Panne was well known for her healing draughts. But Lon'qu examining each shrub and flower Panne collected from, and then stuffing a sample into his pouch was not an everyday occasion.

Frederick and Maribelle appeared to be testing one another's tolerance for their personal training regimes - Maribelle up at dawn to run laps of the training ground, with Robin finding herself drilling Frederick on ballroom etiquette.

Ricken was frolicking about with Nowi, though whether that was youthful energy or energy of a different kind Robin was unable to say.

Most everyone seemed to be moving in some kind of orbit, and it wasn't just part of her job to be attentive, she just naturally was. Donnel had once taught her the meaning behind bird calls, and after that she hadn't been able to walk through a lively forest without cringing. He seemed perfectly content to enjoy the birdsong, but hearing the avian equivalent of lusty boasting and hysterical abuse wasn't something she was able to tune out.

Knowing the meaning behind the sweet twittering took a bit of the beauty and mystery out of the song.

Her open tent flap lifted in a light breeze, carrying in the scent of smoke, spitroast and a note of Lissa's delighted laughter. It flitted about the tiny space of a moment, the familiar tickle to her senses bringing an unbidden smile to her face, and the breeze ruffled the stack of loose wildflowers Ricken had hastily thrust at her today.

The scent overwhelmed her all at once, the memory blossoming in her mind with such searing clarity she fell to her knees. Like the others that had trickled back, not just the image, the scents, the sounds, the –

_{The fingers running down her thighs, tender and gentle compared to the mouth nuzzled into her neck, gods - his breath hot against her skin, firm arms, hard chest and tiny, muffled gasps as he pushed up into her and now her head was back, her lips forming a name and she was –}_

Robin's forehead met the cool fabric of her tent floor, her breath rasping harshly in the otherwise silent cave of her tent, her hands half clenched midair as though reaching for –

Someone.

She rolled onto her back, one arm under her head and the other draped across her stomach as she lazily studied nothing, a smile tugging at her lips.

Robin had gradually grown used to these splinters of memory, even come to look forward to them. She had always suspected she might get something back – after all, she remember how to speak, read, write, eat her dinner and a whole array of other abilities that surely would be more difficult to retain than a few average memories.

Her memories were precious to her, like the few books not on tactics she carried with her; the carved tea box Maribelle had given her as thanks; the picture Libra had drawn and gifted offhand, that she marveled at every night; like the family that had grown up around her and everyday blessed her with love and acceptance. The family who were kind enough not to mention the Plegian lilt to her voice and white hair common to that country. Who didn't see her as a potentially dangerous, foreign amnesiac, but someone they trusted with their lives.

If she didn't have that, if all she had were a few broken memories and a world that gave her no purpose or place, Robin wasn't sure how she'd cope.

She woke up from nightmares like that, sweaty and croaking for breath, images of deserted campgrounds and long stretches of barren, empty road seared into her memory.

Robin closed her eyes again and, feeling like a child sneaking a luscious chocolate at midnight, thought back to her first memory. Each time she remembered, she was careful to store each detail, smoothing them out and laying them flat for storage and only bringing them out when she absolutely couldn't take it anymore. Some part of her was madly afraid that if she dwelt on them too long they would fray at the edges and wear away, washing out under the onslaught of her inspection.

_[Clattering through the door, kicking off her shoes just as the sky opened up and dropped what she thought was the ocean onto the garden, fresh bread smelling lively and somehow pillowy, a woman, pink-haired with a great scar spidering across her face, but her smile was so open and caring Robin didn't even notice, never had, and she was taking her hands and almost, almost she could hear her voice -]_

Nowi's sudden nearby bubble of laughter startled her from her daze, bolting upright and stuffing her fist into her mouth to stifle her yelp of surprise.

"Dinner dinner dinner!" Nowi shrieked, pattering by her tent as a shadowy blur. "It's delicious beef, beef for the  _first and last time_ , and this dragon is going to eat it all!"

"Nowi, no, leave a little behind for me at least!" came Ricken's panicked cry, which only prompted Nowi to squeal in delight at the prospect of a chase and take opff at top speed. Ricken's huffing heralded his arrival at her tent, little more than a darkened outline against the light thrown out by the communal fire. Robin was forced to bit down on her own fist to keep from laughing as Ricken's grumpy mumbling reached her ears – for a mage who so desperately wanted to be seen as an adult, he had some extremely childish things to say about Nowi.

Robin saw Ricken's shadow hesitate, bouncing on the balls of his feet in contemplation. She quietly got to her feet and brushed her clothes off as the young mage's shadow flitted back and forth in front of her tent. "Yes, Ricken?" His muffled squeak brought a grin to her face.

"Robin! Can I, uh, come in?" Ricken asked hesitantly, and though the boy's nose was right up against the tent flap Robin knew that it would take nothing short of a wild bear to get him to come in without her leave. ' _Whoever had taught Ricken to be a gentleman_ ,' she mused, ' _needs a parade_.'

"I'm just about to go to dinner, would you walk me there?" she called, snatching up her cloak and snapping back the tent flap. Ricken froze at her sudden proximity, his eyes set on her collarbone for a moment before his legs propelled him backwards as top speed.

Robin lightly caught his wrist before he staggered onto a tent peg and waited patiently until his awkward, teenage world had righted itself. He had definitely grown a few inches since they had first met, but the trade off seemed to be a reduced ability to string a sentence together. Normally she found this display endearing, but there was beef on the line. "Come on; let's get a move on before it all goes down the gullet of a dragon."

She'd had a lover, clearly. It had been brief and yes, a little confusing, but there was no mistaking it, and if she was going to be perfectly frank with herself, she'd always wondered if she had left someone behind when she had awoken in that field.

Robin linked their arms and smiled at him warmly, already committing the memory away for further analysis – for the time being, she would simply enjoy Ricken's company.


	2. Hold Your Friends Closer

"May I have this next dance?" Cordelia ribbed at Robin and Ricken, trotting up as they stepped into the mess tent. Robin grinned back at her, releasing Ricken's arm and giving him a polite curtsey. The boy turned red, gabbled something incoherently and took off, leaving the two girls alone.

"You're looking cheery today," Cordelia commented as they joined the line of Shepherds waiting for their serving. The redhead leaned in a touch closer and lowered her voice. "Did things go better today, with your meeting?"

Despite the twinge of affection that went through her at Cordelia's obvious concern, Robin's face still hurt under her gaze, and she stared hard at her feet. "A bit better. Still ended in a shouting match, but a bit better."

"Yes, we – I heard." Robin winced, glancing at Cordelia.

"Was it that loud?" she ventured, and Cordelia nodded sympathetically.

"'Fraid so," she confirmed, then smiled a tad mischievously. Since The Wedding, an event Robin had attended with great reluctance, she and Cordelia had grown closer, talking for hours in one another's tents and even spending their rare days off together. And while Robin was eternally grateful for the other girl's support, she had learned very quickly that any juicy news made Cordelia grin like a cat full to the whiskers with cream.

"A few people stopped to listen, but -" Cordelia drew out her sentence, and despite herself Robin leaned in curiously "- Libra chased the away in short order," Cordelia finished, and Naga help her, Robin blushed. It was an impressive blush, one that started below her neck, crept up into her face, bloomed in her cheeks and left her crimson to her hairline. It flared up at the slightest provocation and was often more embarrassing than whatever had caused it.

"That was very lucky, then," she mumbled, giving Cordelia a 'let's-drop-this-subject-right-away' kind of stare. As a kind of therapy, Cordelia had taken to match-making Robin with their various male acquaintances in her head and enthusiastically listing the benefits of each to the bemused tactician.

While Robin tolerated it with a degree of exasperated curiousity, Libra was one she hadn't quite made up her mind how she felt about. They got on well, famously even, and his presence over the two years of peace had been a lifesaver, but Robin always felt there was something he was locking up, deep inside him.

Perhaps it was because she didn't want to hear anything else on Cordelia's marital speculations, or because she was honestly pleased she had remembered something of significance, Robin blurted out, "I remembered something else about my past."

This got Cordelia's interest. "Really?" she gasped, as they stepped up to the serving table. "What was it – uh, if you don't mind me asking?" Cordelia asked, selecting a couple of hot bread rolls while they waited for the beef stew to be divvyed up. Robin piled a couple onto a plate and eyed off another.

"I don't mind, actually," she said, smiling a little fondly. "It was just…well, nothing like I've remembered before."

Cordelia eyed her inquiringly, accepting their two bowls of stew with barely a muttered thanks to the chef and setting Robin's in front of her. "What was it? Oh!" Cordelia's eyes widened excitedly. "You have a sibling? No, you remembered where you lived," her face fell for a moment. "Was it something bad?"

Robin giggled and lightly shook her shoulder. "No! Don't look so fretful." Robin once again eyed the bread basket. "I remembered, well…you'll probably think this is funny, after everything, but…I remembered I had a lover."

Her deliberation at an end, Robin snatched up another roll and started off towards her usual table. Chrom already had set aside some for her, so with any luck she'd have enough to take back to her tent. She was due another late night and having a snack would…

Robin realized that Cordelia had not fallen into step with her, and turned back to find the Pegasus knight white-faced and gaping. "Are you feeling unwell?" Robin asked worriedly, setting down her food on the nearest table. Cordelia was a tough girl but she often overworked herself, and it wouldn't be the first time she'd hid her exhaustion well enough that even Robin hadn't noticed.

It was then she became away she was standing in a circle of silence, only the Shepherds at the furthest tables still chatting away.

"Did you say…you had a l-lover?" Cordelia asked uncertainly, her bowl forgotten in her hands and drooping dangerously, the contents threatening to spill into her boots.

Robin was a fine tactician, and with that title came attached a refined sense of foreboding. It had helped her anticipate ambushes, spot flaws in her path-plotting and now, gave her the distinct sense that she had crossed a line.

Perhaps Cordelia had noticed she'd taken more than her fair share of bread? She silently bid Chrom to keep her extra portion out of sight.

"Yes, I did," she confirmed, picking up her food and moving on down to her table, raising her voice slightly. "It was a bit…um, bewildering, I suppose? The memory was all over the place," Robin settled down into her seat and began to tear at her bread, "honestly it was so short I almost wasn't sure what was going on –"

Cordelia's bowl slammed down next to Robin, making her jump and almost upset her stew. "So, it may not have been a lover, then?" The question was eager, hopeful and made Robin furrow her brow.

"Noooo, definitely a lover," she said slowly, then hid a smile behind her hand. "A Robin Enthusiast, hah! Honestly, Cordy, don't make me spell it out, that's a little – "Cordelia's hand gripped her shoulder and spun her around, and Robin's words died on her lips at the distress in her friend's eyes.

"Don't say that so loud!" Cordelia hissed in a tone Robin had never heard before, desperate, apprehensive. She risked a glance about her, and found herself under heavy scrutiny from Frederick and Sully. Cordelia smiled and waved them off, and they turned away nonchalantly. But that growing sense of foreboding lead Robin to suspect they had heard more than they let on.

"Is it possible he was your husband?" Cordelia queried urgently, her voice so low Robin almost couldn't hear her. Robin leaned in; affected by a sense of secrecy she hadn't felt five minutes ago, she suddenly wished she had kept this little nugget of information to herself.

"No, I don't think so," she murmured. "I don't have a ring or anything, I didn't wake up with one. Or any indication I had one." She had inspected her hand, multiple times, as part of her frantic attempt to assert anything about her past. Cordelia began to chew on her lower lip, looking so miserable that Robin tried to lighten the mood. "How do you know it was a man, anyway?"

Wrong thing to say, judging by Cordelia's ragged gasp and expression of total horror. The Pegasus knight reeled back from her, leaving Robin almost consumed by sudden panic. "It was, it was a man," Robin hastened to reassure her. "Heavens, Cordy, what is the matter?"

"Robin, you really don't – "Cordelia licked her lips nervously, and now they had the full attention of every table around them. Ten pairs of eyes burned into the back of Robin's head, and she fervently wished she'd had her dinner sent to her tent.

"Look, not really – that is to say, here in Ylisse we prize…not to say you're not, I'm not saying that at all…"

"I'm…not really sure what you are saying," Robin said helplessly. "Is…is it uncommon in Ylisse, to have a lover and not be married?"

" _Ssshhhh_!" But the damage was done. Maribelle, of all people to overhear, turned to Robin with wide, stricken eyes.

"Robin, dear, I hope you're not considering what I think you are!" the noble girl barked loudly, and now the whole mess hall wasn't even trying to conceal their interest. At the other end of the tent, Chrom had paused with a spoonful of stew halfway to his open mouth.

"What am I considering?" Robin asked in a brief moment of confusion. "I'm not  _taking_  a lover, Maribelle!" The girl sighed in obvious relief. "I was just saying that I remembered I had one."

It was, Robin reflected later, a rare occurrence in such a boisterous army to have total, voluntary silence. Especially in the mess, where after a hard day's marching or training the Shepherds had their first chance to let loose.

"I remembered something, at least," Robin offered lamely. "Is this…I'm getting an indication that this is not an everyday thing, then?"

"What makes you think it would be?" Maribelle cried, turning fully to face her but, Robin noted, a cold hand clenching around her heart, the girl leaned back as though afraid to come too close.

"I-I don't know." Robin's voice was small, and she probably would have said nothing else on the matter had Tharja not piped up unexpectedly.

"It is not that uncommon for  _Plegians_  to take partners before matrimony," she said silkily, her hands steepled in front of her. Henry nodded away merrily beside her, apparently totally unaffected by the revelation.

"Yup," he confirmed cheerfully. "We tend to die sooner so we have to make the most of it!" He returned to his dinner with gusto, and Tharja took the opportunity to offer Robin her portion of bread. They appeared to be the only two who were largely unaffected by the revelation, and Robin was beginning to feel like an animal on display.

Robin hated herself, hated them, hated everything for what she was going to say next, but Cordelia, the girl who had been such a strong support for her recently, was starting to feel like a stranger next to her. "Maybe…that's when it happened," she muttered, her throat tightening reflexively.  _I don't want to say this_. "When I was…in Plegia, maybe then…"

She doubted it. Her brief time in the country had been uncomfortable and unfamiliar – if she had spent any significant amount of time there, Robin was sure she would have felt more at home. But Ylisse's milder climate was much more welcoming, and if it hadn't been for her accent and colouring Robin would have happily assumed she was a born and bred Ylissean.

But it seemed to placate her fellow Shepherds, who were gradually settling back into their seats, while Maribelle wittered on. She caught Henry's eye, and then realized she'd actually made eye contact with the mage. He gave her a surprisingly sympathetic smile, and she smile back hesitantly.

Cordelia elbowed her hard in the ribs, and the smile dropped from her face. "Don't look at him like that," Cordelia muttered urgently – there was was no disgust in her voice, only fear. "What if someone saw?"

"I've been allowed to smile at people before," Robin growled, glaring down at her small mountain of bread rolls. This was  _ridiculous_.

She finally tuned into what Maribelle was talking about, namely enumerating the multiple differences between Ylisse, Plegia and for some reason, Ferox, culminating in, "It's really not a surprise, that you wouldn't realize the implications behind your actions." Maribelle gave her a surprisingly kind smile. "Alas, if only you had been educated previously, Robin. You could have avoided this whole sordid business."

"What sordid business?" Robin questioned suspiciously, and was immediately alarmed by the glances exchanged between the tables. There were a lot of Shepherds –  _Ylissean Shepherds_ , her mind snarled – who seemed to know what Maribelle was speaking of, so the exchange took a few minutes, which Robin spent getting herself in a spectacular temper.

In the midst of it all, she looked across the room and became entangled in Libra's gaze, the monk sitting a corner with Virion and Gaius. His face wasn't blank or disapproving – it was watchful.

Robin remembered.

* * *

_"Meeting a lady friend, Libra?" Robin called, beaming cheekily as the passing priest almost jumped out of his skin. She waved at him from her position under a wide walnut tree; the husks still tiny and almost invisible nestled amongst green leaves. With a flask of apple cider open next to her, a book in her lap and her hair tumbling freely over her shoulders, she was the picture of relaxation._

_"Come sit, Libra," she urged, and she was mildly put out by the second of hesitation on his normally peaceful features. Finally though, he joined her in the shade, a welcome respite from Ylisstol's summer heat. She marked her page and closed her book, setting it aside for later._

_Robin offered Libra her flask, which he accepted readily enough, and she took the time to study her newfound companion. Libra had been joining her for afternoon tea almost every day now, though this was the first time she had seen him anywhere but the chapel or her kitchen._

_She was equally interested about the woman he'd been with, whom he had parted ways with at the bridge just before the park where Robin had seat herself – 'she wasn't that pretty,' a small, mean part of her whispered, and she squashed the thought hurriedly. The woman, admittedly, had not been a great beauty, though she was by no means ugly. She had just been very…worn out, was the only way Robin could think of putting it. Like she had seen the very worst humanity had to offer one day, and then had to see it every day since._

_"What are you reading?" Libra asked after a few moments' companionable silence._

_"A new book I found quite recently," Robin said eagerly, trying to dispel her curiousity. "It's about a boy with a girl's name, who lives in a world where men fight monsters. But after going out into the world he finds that the monsters aren't as horrible as he's been told, and that men are much crueler than he knew. The part that I'm up to, he's met with a woman who fights these monsters for a living, she's had all sorts of horrible things done to her body so she can fight them effectively, but she's so ruthless he's afraid of her and what she'll do to him, and I think it's a really interesting concept, Lissa said she enjoyed the ending and that it came out of no where, so I'm trying to get through the book before I get summoned to the castle to help pick out drapes for the incoming heir's third nursery, or some such – oh, I got off track a bit."_

_Libra was smiling though, entertained by her exuberance, and Robin couldn't help but notice how serene he looked, stretched out across the grass with the sun lightly dropping patterns across his face._

_Libra's – there was no other way to put it, really – beauty had been a common subject between Virion and Robin during their strategy matches; when Virion had related the story of his initial mistake with Libra's gender she had been forced the throw the match and go outside to calm down._

_And he was beautiful. Not just in a feminine way, though out of respect for him Robin tried to pay as much attention to his masculine qualities as she could. But he wasn't heavenly, in the way some of the other priests were, totally dedicated to Naga and weirdly untouchable. He wasn't peaceful; Robin could see the storm brewing behind his eyes, the way he carefully avoided physical contact with anyone he didn't know extremely well. Something plagued Libra, and that damnable nosy part of her wanted to find out what is was._

_But he had a kindness to him that Robin loved. She saw it in his lessons to the children who hung on his every word, in his tender affection for his flock of followers. On the nights when sleep skirted the edges of her consciousness, she craved a morsel of his gentleness, of his attention and good favour._

_"Who was the woman you were walking with?" Robin asked suddenly, and then reddened when his eyes cut to hers. "Sorry, I really could have phrased that a little less accusingly."_

_Libra just smiled again and hummed a laugh. "She was…is an old acquaintance. I've known her for many years, and she can never truly seem to right herself."_

_"The poor woman." Robin stared down the street the woman had disappeared down, feeling a twinge of sympathy tighten her chest. "Do you see her often?" Libra sighed, his features darkening for a second._

_"Too often, I fear. There are plenty of streets in Ylisstol that would give even an armed man pause, and Yesica walks them daily." There was something in the way he said it that had Robin running down a completely different mental pathway._

_"Oh, she is a…lady of the night, so to speak?" she asked carefully._

_"Delicately put - quite the politician now, Robin," Libra said, gracing her with a rare, toothy grin._

_"I've never been near such a lady, thank you, so quite unlike a politician," Robin said primly, a tremor of mischief in her voice. Libra gave a short bark of laughter and lightly swirled her flask, his eyes bright and green-gold._

_"So she comes to you when she needs absolution or guidance?" Robin steered them back to the subject at hand._

_"What makes you think it was for that?" Libra asked seriously, and almost tripped over himself when Robin's face turned speculative. "I do not mean it was anything different, I just…wish to know why you automatically assumed it was not…something different."_

_Robin leaned over to pry her flask from his unresisting fingers, giving it a swish herself and taking a long gulp before replying. "It was not a jab at your masculinity, if that's what you're asking." Kind of, his next look said, and she smiled in what she hoped was a placating fashion. "As far as I'm concerned, you're as manly as Gregor – "_

_"Heavens, I hope I conduct myself better, at the very least," Libra gasped, clearly alarmed, and Robin wasted a few more minutes rocking back and forth, laughing herself almost to hiccups._

_"Much better behaved, no fear," she choked out at last, passing back the flask and rummaging around in her satchel for the orange blossom biscuits she had brought along. "No, I'm not dismissing your manliness or your manly desires – "Libra spluttered in indignation but didn't actually deny anything, which just made Robin grin wider "- I just didn't think you'd do that, take advantage of someone. She sounds like a lady who needs help, not another guy pawing at her, and you give her that safety. I think it's admirable, that you know exactly what a person needs."_

_Robin located the biscuits, and offered one to Libra. "They're pretty good, I wasn't sure about the recipe at first but they're hard to mess up. And I'm better at cooking for myself than a whole camp!" Libra accepted the offering, nodding his thanks and prompting Robin to continue._

_"I'm just sorry she has to slink about like that," Robin murmured. "Like someone's going to start throwing stones. Isn't there somewhere safe for her to go if she can't find you?"_

_"The streetwalkers and lower born are virtually invisible in Ylisstol," Libra's voice was low and hoarse with sadness. "Girls, women like Yesica have to fight everyday for their existence, with no one to turn to. Some of them have disappeared altogether."_

_"Not to a better life in the country," Robin said glumly, her appetite rapidly diminishing. "What does the exalt do abo – no, don't answer that. I fancy myself a tactician, I should be able to work it out."_

_"I have often found that when nobles say they care about the common people, they mean the freshly washed, devoted masses that turn up for parades and appreciate a half day off," Libra rumbled, staring down hard at the grass. "Robin, the squalor I see people living in every day is…heartbreaking. Yesica came to me because the debt collectors are on her heels, and they are certainly not the officials that the exalt employs. They make people disappear. I wish to help, but I am only one man and I fear for her life."_

_Oh a whim, Robin reached out and grasped his hand, entwining their fingers before her head had a chance to catch up to her actions. Apart from the day she had received The Invitation to The Wedding, when they had shared a tight embrace, she had been careful to respect Libra's personal space. He did not pull away, however, and after a couple of seconds his fingers tightened around hers._

_"I could ask Chrom, perhaps he would be willing to reach out, and I could start a…" Robin's voice trailed off – Libra was staring at her as though she had started speaking in tongues. "What did I say this time?"_

_"Robin, dear…if you were very lucky and the magistrates were in a well mood, you would only be laughed out of court." He shook his head wildly, hair flying about his face. "No, I would never ask you to do that, to endanger your reputation so. For a priest to help the so called 'wicked' is fine, but the respected royal tactician?"_

_"Why would it be a problem?" Robin urged. "Surely, as subjects, and people in need, they would be – "_

_"No, Robin." The force of his words stunned her, and she drew back from Libra. For a moment he reached for her, but before she could respond his hand fell away. "You…do not know. Perhaps it is not something you have encountered yet, but…a woman's honour and prospects for marriage are still very critical in Ylisse, especially for the noble families. This has culminated in a love, an obsession with perceived purity and innocence. To be seen assisting women who have cast such things aside, even if they had to do it to survive…They will receive no assistance from those in power. Even if Chrom wished to, the backlash could be devastating and the rumour mill would do the worst of the damage."_

_Robin went pale at this – as angry as she still was, she couldn't stand the thought of her two friends coming under any sort of fire. "That's…That's…" She went silent for one moment. "That's so unfair! That's cruel, that's unbelievable! What does the – the state of her body have to do with her worth, Libra? That's just – " Robin found she could not talk around the growing lump in her throat, and she pressed her fists to her temples, squeezing her eyes shut against the sudden blur the world had become._

_She felt a hand, calloused by years of axe-wielding, rest gently on her cheek, a thumb caressing away a traitorous tear. "It is unfair, Robin, but –" Robin cracked open her eyes, and saw the tiny smile that tilted Libra's lips. "- it helps, to know that you care so, and can see past such trivial matters."_

_Libra looked back into the crowd once more, and now Robin was sure he was seeing things she would never truly understand in a lifetime – the invisible people, the underground citizens of Ylisse who suffered in silence and performed small miracles behind closed doors. "I do hope you do not forget that."_

* * *

" _There is no sordid bloody business_." The shout even shocked Robin, who hadn't expected it to come out so forcefully. Oh well, in for a penny, in for a pound, and at least she now had their full attention. "I had a past, there was a man there, we shared a bed, and the sky did not rain fire in disapproval!" Robin gathered up her food, somehow managing to maintain her dignity while almost hidden behind her bread and balancing a steaming bowl.

"Robin, it's not that we think it's a terrible thing," Cordelia said hurriedly, though it was apparent even to Robin that this consensus was not shared by the entire mess tent. "It's just very odd, and only, well – "

"Only the worst of the commoners do such things," Robin finished, and she could feel her cheek spasming, feel the weight of their gazes, feeling herself trying to push down the shame at having disappointed her friends with an act she  _didn't even remember_. Cordelia made a noise of protest, but faltered when she saw the burning looking in Robin's eye.

"I have work to do that does not require me sitting here, listening to backwater customs," she snapped. There it was, the comment she could never take back. Robin fled to her tent with as much dignity as she could, leaving behind Maribelle in mid-scold and protests rising in the lips of the people she couldn't face.

Once she arrived, she firmly tied the flap shut, extinguished her lanterns and muffled her screams into her pillow. Whether they were cries of anger or sorrow she could not tell, but it left tear-stains in the fabric all the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The book Robin is reading is Foundling, book one of the Monster Blood Tattoo series. Very good, worth a read!


	3. Tried In The Court Of Public Opinion

"Robin?"

Her tent flap rustled.

"Rooooobin? Roby Rob Robin?"

The tactician groaned and shoved her face under her pillow.

"Robinnnn? We're coming in one way or another, and I don't want to burn your tent down. Well, I could  _consider_  not wanting to burn your tent down, ha!" It was Henry.

Robin then realized that  _it was Henry_ , leaping out of her cot and across the room in a display of acrobatics she had not realized she was capable of. She fumbled with the tie, cursing under her breath when warm light bloomed beyond the fabric.

"Put that out, Henry, I'm letting you in," she whispered, finally getting her sluggish fingers to work. She flung it aside with a bit more haste than really necessary, and two slim figures slithered inside immediately.

"Golly, it's dark in here, Robin!" Henry's cheerful voice boomed from somewhere in the oppressive darkness, which was chased away in short order by a burst of bright light that seared Robin's eyeballs. Her arm flung across her eyes, Robin staggered back, mewling a wordless protest.

After the white dots faded from her vision, she stood face to face with Henry and Tharja, the former holding a handful of flames in one hand and wearing his usual bright grin. Tharja was staring firmly at the floor, her arms tightly folded across her chest with the absence of an enormous tome.

"Thanks," Robin said weakly, chewing nervously on her lower lip. She had hoped she wouldn't have to face any of her teammates until daybreak, but she should have known that the two Plegians would seek her out in the dead of night.

"Pretty heavy stuff back there," Henry began, looking around her tent inquisitively. "Ya know, I've never really been in here, you've got nice – Tharja, your heel is digging into the fleshy part of my foot, you silly!" Tharja glowered at Henry, twisting her stiletto for emphasis (for all the good it did her), then met Robin's surprised gaze with a hesitance Robin had never seen before.

"I – that is, we just wanted to let you know that," Tharja drew in a deep breath, Robin silently urging her on, a little rabbit of hope kicking up in her chest.

"It's cool with us, that you had a roll in the hay," Henry cut in cheerily. "A frolic in the cornfield. Fed the kitty. Did the mattress mambo. Rode the wild bull – "

"Uh, well put, Henry," Robin tried to interject, but Henry just continued unabated.

"Stormed the trenches. Did the no-pants dance. Wait, I already used a dance one. Tested the humidity. Okay, I think I'm done."

"Great, well – "

"Had some horizontal refreshme – urp!" Henry tugged futilely at his now sealed lips, chortling as Tharja carefully bumped him off to the side.

"Cretin," she growled, and Robin finally let the smile she'd been fighting off to spread across her face. Henry and Robin had never been particularly close, while Tharja had more been close  _by_. But it was…kind of them to come and see her, and she felt a warm glow smolder in her chest.

"Thank you, Tharja." By the gods, the girl blushed like a sunrise, peeping out nervously from under her bangs.

"I don't care what you've done in the past," she aid bluntly, and Robin's eyebrows rose in surprise. For some reason, while lying under the covers and restlessly turning over the dinnerscene in her head she had assumed Tharja would be somewhat put out by the revelation.

"It will not affect our future together." Oh. Robin nodded hesitantly, unsure how to really follow that statement – but Tharja looked pleased with herself and Henry –

"No, Henry! That won't help!" Robin wrestled her good ink pen from Henry's grasp, tiny spots of blood already blossoming on his pale lips. He smiled at her as widely as he could, Robin matching it with an expectant look.

"Well? Don't wait for Tharja to dispel it; I know you're quite capable of doing it yourself." Henry pouted, but his lips opened up a second later, his pink tongue darting out and lapping up the red droplets.

"I don't mind either," he piped up, flinging himself onto her cot and bonelessly spawling out. "Honestly, Ylisseans – living in an uptight paradise, nya!"

"Yes, curse their bountiful harvests, stable economy and burgeoning cultural status," Robin said good-naturedly, and blanched when two radiantly hopeful faces turned to her. "Not literally curse. We'll save those for later."

"I like the way you think, Robin!" Henry launched himself off the bed and began to inspect her meager bookcase, while Tharja eyed the still full bowl of stone-cold stew with a small frown creasing her face.

"How did it go, after I left?" Robin asked, half-dreading the answer, especially when the two of them exchange a solemn glance. The expression was not at home on Henry's features.

"A touch of idle speculation, a dash of gossip," Tharja said guardedly. "Some were surprised, said they never thought you were 'that kind of girl'." Robin's temper flared for what had to be the umpteenth time that night, her hands balling into fists.

"I can only guess at what criteria I should fill," she drawled, picking up a slightly stale hunk of bread and absent-mindedly tearing off tiny crumbs. "I knew that…ladies of the night – "

"Bleh, blahd!" said Henry, curving his hands into claws and baring his teeth before falling over giggling.

"– yes, those ladies were shunned, but I never really…made the connection to me," Robin said helplessly. "I didn't think it would be such a huge mistake." Even Tharja was shaking her head by now.

"Nonsense." The dark mage perched herself next to Henry, who had recovered from his fit and was now watching Robin with slightly watery, silver eyes. "You are Plegian, however much of a sting in the tail it is to the precious exalt and his sycophants." Robin raised an eyebrow at this, and Tharja relented. "Fine, his loyal subjects. Ylisse has always been madly obsessed with marriage and purity, don't ask me why, but it has. In Plegia it's not so terrible to take a bed companion, but marriage is still eventually expected."

While Robin still thought this was fundamentally unfair, she was at least grateful that there were definitely two people in camp who didn't think she was a sullied woman. Three, if you could count –

"Uh, so, were there any particular standouts?" Robin burst out, the bread in her fingers long since crumbled to a grainy pile at her feet. "Any one I should…speak to first."

They both cringed, which just made the heavy sensation in her head grow ten times worse. "I personally don't think you should speak to anyone," Tharja muttered, glowering at a bread roll that had tumbled onto the floor. After a second, it fell to ash. "Who cares what they think?"

"Did you have a lover, before you got married?" Robin asked hopefully, and Tharja nodded immediately.

"I wouldn't exactly call him a lover," she said dismissively. "That implies some kind of emotional connection. He was very good-looking, but I really would need someone who was intelligent, sturdy, a tactical thinker, someone of strong will…" She slyly cut her eyes to Robin.

"Well…Good thing Virion fits all those criteria," Robin offered, and Tharja pouted.

"He has been most acceptable," she said curtly, though Robin could detect a hint of warmth for the archer in her voice.

"Does he know?" Their heads snapped around the stare at Henry, who was idly playing with Robin's sheepskin quilt. "Does he know you have a lover," Henry explained patiently.

"…He does know," sniffed Tharja. "He's not particularly bothered – I think he even likes it, knowing that I'm not just an empty-headed sow falling for the first man to show an interest."

"Best man wins," Henry added happily, now almost entirely ensconced in Robin's blanket, only his face visible, like a shard of moonlight. "I've never had a woman. Or a man, haha!" Robin blinked, surprised into silence by his flippant revelation.

"Is…there any reason why?" she asked timidly.

Henry shrugged, his movements made thick by her blanket. "Just…never bothered, never came my way, either." His tone was slightly subdued, an unfamiliar emotion haunting his eyes and dulling their colour.

Then his smile turned on like a light, and he flung himself off the bed with every sign of his usual good humour, wearing Robin's blanket like a cloak. "Nya, care to remedy that?" he purred, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. Robin laughed and swatted his arm.

"Give me my blanket back, you ninny," she said affectionately, ruffling his hair into mad peaks. Henry laughed, more authentically this time, and Robin set out on a chase to retrieve her bedclothes, sending her tent into further disarray while Tharja stood by the tent flap and looked on with a curious mix of despair and reluctant enjoyment.

Tharja finally ended the chase by grabbing Henry by the forearm and halting him in his tracks. "Wow, Tharja, I forgot how strong you are!" The man gabbled, squirming in her grip like a fish on a hook. Robin halted to catch her breath, watching the two Plegians squabble in their own unique way – Henry burbling over with crazy energy and Tharja descending into an even deeper sulk.

Robin stole over while Henry was distracted, and slipped the blanket from his shoulders – he craned his neck to shoot her another dazzling grin, then lightly flicked Tharja's nose and ducked out of Robin's tent while the dark mage was still spluttering with rage.

Tharja paused half way out of the tent, her hair falling across her face and leaving her expression unreadable. "Robin…" Her tone made Robin look up from where she was rearranging her bedding. "The…don't let the Ylisseans make you feel like your past was a mistake. These people are –  _ugh_  – your companions and they will see sense."

Robin smiled tenderly.

"And you can always come and bunk with Virion and myself. There's room. Virion can sleep on the floor. Or outside."

"Uh…very kind, thank you, Tharja."

* * *

_This was no memory, certainly not, Robin was sure she would be a lot emptier if she'd lost this treasure. She had never felt his hands on her thighs, nestled as she was in his lap, and she had never felt his hard heat pressed into her lower stomach._

_But she had seen those eyes, seen his smile, and if she could get her hands untangled from his hair and maybe even his devilish mouth from the tender skin of her neck, she could –_

"Robin."

"Damn it!"

Robin crashed to the floor, limbs intricately bound up in her sheets. She struggled for a moment, cursing her tendency to flail about in her sleep, before finally giving the whole thing up as a rotten start to the day.

She sighed and squinted through sleep-blurred eyes at Libra's grave face. "How can I help you this fine,  _early_  morning, Libra?"

"It's not how you can help me – uh, do you require some assistance?" Robin shook her head frantically, abruptly recalling that she had stripped down to just her smallclothes before tumbling into bed after her Plegian dark mages had skittered off.

"Uh, no, thank you, I - it's chilly this morning." Thankfully, her arms were finally free, and she pulled herself back up onto her cot, wrapping her quilt around her tightly. "You look very concerned, Libra, and it is unlike you to venture into my tent without an invitation." She forced a smile. "Could invite chitchat."

"Ah, I think not, for me." Libra sat at her desk – the man had the grace of an aristocrat tempered with the humility of his profession. "I gather from the rumours already flying about that I am appalled by your past behaviour and seek only to bring you back into the light of Naga. If they saw me go in or out, they'd think only of sermons."

"I guess, by the specks of scorn in your tone, that you have no homily prepared?" Robin asked dryly, and Libra harrumphed. It must be a priestly skill, to harrumph with the best of them.

"None on hand, but I could improvise if you're feeling at all holy this morning," he shot back, and Robin felt a grin crack her face.

"Unlikely as any morning! But please continue with your original problem," Robin invited, shifting slightly on her bed.

Libra observed her thoughtfully, his hand cupping his cheek in thought. It was a very feminine gesture, but he managed to make it look almost masculine. Almost. "I would…very much like it if you went and spoke to Lissa this morning."

"And…why Lissa?" Robin asked, eyes narrowed.

"Lissa is…a very strong young lady, of great character," Libra began. "But she is still heavily influenced by the people she looks up to. Robin, there has been a lot of gossip since last night." Seeing how she drooped, Libra held out a soothing hand. "A lot of gossip, but also much division amongst the ranks. Extremists on both sides, you might say." He looked almost exasperated now. "Honestly, when I said I wanted a revolution I wasn't expecting you to start from the ground up."

"Neither was I, if it's any consolation!" Robin groaned, though in truth she was insanely curious as to what had been happening amongst her ranks while she had been having a temper tantrum. "So…Lissa is the person to speak to?"

"I think that if Lissa were to understand your position, changing the minds of others will be a tad easier," Libra advised. "I just…we've seen, what happens. Crucified by public opinion and then – "

Robin shuddered.

* * *

_"Libra?" The priest in question turned to face Robin, his mouth set in a grim, hard line. Robin tracked her eyes back over the restless, angry crowd, the air electric with sinister anticipation. "Libra…what's going on?"_

_Robin had been attracted to the throng on her way to the temple, worried into action when Libra had not arrived for their usual morning tea at her home. Their afternoon sessions had spread into the morning, until they'd end up spending whole days in each other's company. It lead to a few late nights getting her work done, and she was sure Libra had to make up the time not spent with his flock, but she privately adored those days. Those were the days when she thought bliss could make a permanent home in her heart._

_Her usual path - from her home in the upper circle; past the opera house; through the boutique district; then on through the boulevard that was known as Naga's Approach - was blocked by a cart pileup. She had been forced to trek through an area she rarely needed to go – through the market and slaughterhouse quarter, and into the lower circles nearing the slums._

_She certainly hadn't expected to meet Libra by the entrance to the lower circle, lurking in the shade of one of the bent and broken gates with his eyes trained on the masses in front of him. They were assembled in one of the small market squares, which would on any other day be busy with shopkeepers and fishmongers hollering their wares._

_Now it was empty, save for a makeshift stage. Robin noticed that while the people in front of her came in every size, shape, age, gender, colour and smell, they all were worn down, they all were too thin and they were all a hair away from total riot._

_"What's…going on?" Robin asked, standing on tip-toe to try and catch a glimpse over the crowd. "Is there a show?"_

_"Of sorts," Libra gritted out, and Robin was all business._

_"I can get the royal guard down here in ten minutes," she said instantly, "Hostage situation? I'll send a runner, we can keep the crowd at bay until they arrive but it will be a close thing, blast, I wish we had Ricken, he's handy with a bit of cautionary magic – how many armed? I estimate at least half concealing a weapon capable of fatal blows. We'll need to keep them safe until the guards come in, but – "_

_"The guards will not assist, in this case," Libra interjected, sending her train of thought to a screeching halt._

_"But – but why?" Robin gesticulated wildly at the scene in front of them. "I mean, I admit I don't know what's going on really, but – " ' **but it's enough to make you look like you're suffering so much inside, and I don't like that**,' she wanted to finish. But she allowed Libra to cut her off, his shuttered gaze making the words die on her lips._

_"It is an…exhibition." Libra's hands settled on her shoulders, and he pulled her back with him, away from the main thoroughfare. "A social trial and a bout of public shaming." Robin's head spun, feeling distinctly sick at the chittering eagerness of the people._

_"For who, who deserves that?" she breathed, but her question was already being answer. Three young girls and one youth were half-hauled onto the stage by grim-faced citizens, evoking a throaty scream from the crowd, who surged forward eagerly at their appearance. The youngsters, whom Robin couldn't help but think of as children, were skinny and filthy - the eldest looked to be about sixteen, just of age by Ylissean standards, and the youngest couldn't have been older than eleven._

_Robin looked up at Libra, who was watching the scene with ill-concealed grief. "What did they do?" Robin whispered fiercely. "What did they **do**?"_

_"Different things, some of them crimes and some of them…not so much," Libra responded tightly. "The young child – Bianca, has been living on the streets, and threatened a family with a pocket knife for that night's dinner." Robin cast her eyes to the tiny child, the only one who wasn't cowering. Her eyes were hard and black in her face, the eyes of someone who had seen worse than a seething pack of righteous witnesses._

_"Celia stole from a convent," Libra continued, "Balthazar broke his apprenticeship to his master, and Viola sold her body for coin." His voice was detached now, and Robin wondered how he knew their names. But of course, if any stranger was going to know their names, it would be Libra._

_The people were indeed, listing these deeds with a great deal of rage, bellowing out their crimes so fervently it almost made their words unintelligible. The little girl, Bianca, was to be branded and sent to the stocks, which drew a roar of approval from the onlookers. Bianca looked indifferent, but her pulsing throat betrayed her dread._

_Celia was to pay penance to the nuns she had stolen from, a light punishment that infuriated the crowd – but the cluster of women standing off the side simply pulled Celia, white-faced and trembling Celia, down from the stage and spirited her away._

_"The sisters pleaded for clemency, or Celia would have faced the same fate as Bianca," Libra said. Next on the list for mob retribution, Balthazar was to be walked barefoot through the town with chains weighing down his neck, shouting his offense to the people as he went, before spending a night in the stocks._

_Viola was left until last, and there was real sense of perverse pleasure from the people, who immediately started shouting suggestions for her punishment. The group of arbitrators listened with barely concealed glee, while Viola shook and struggled for breath and until she finally started weeping openly. She was a willowy young girl, with the red hair common to the younger generation of Ylisseans. This only seemed to stoke the fire that roared against her._

_Finally, after the crowd began to settle, they announced their verdict and penalty._

_Robin's world went white._

_Fifteen minutes later, Libra had dragged Robin into a fine teashop just inside of the middle circle, pushing her through the main area filled with startled patrons and out to the private rooms. He hustled her into a beautiful, tastefully appointed room, done up in cedar and apricot silks. After helping her unresisting form to an overstuffed sofa, he tugged on an embroidered cord that ran up into the ceiling. Minutes later. a young lady in a starched black frock arrived bearing a silver tea service, setting it down on the polished table and bowing out. Libra seemed to contemplate the other couch, and then elected instead to settle down at a respectful distance next to Robin._

_Robin allowed the aroma of tea to wash over her. It was her favourite blend._

_"It would have been suicide, trying to fight that mob," she said dully._

_"Without a doubt."_

_"Even if we'd won, it was a people's court. We'd be facing assault charges, and our faces would be splattered over every dirty rag that the press could cough up."_

_"Indeed."_

_"Some wars aren't fought with fists – some changes have to be enacted with time, with the revolution taking place inside people's heads. It has to be something everyone wants to see changed."_

_"A solid truth."_

_"I watched a young girl branded and another shaved, scarred and sent to the pillory. I did this in the name of future justice. I could have intervened, but it would have been stupid, deadly and empty in the end."_

_"I am…afraid so."_

_Robin's head dropped into her hands. "But it would have been…good. Not right, not smart, but **nice**. I still feel so worthless, Libra. I prided myself on being a Shepherd, a protector of these people, and I can't even protect a young girl from the wrath of her friends and family." There were no tears – she had no right to bawl over the fate of two girls she had chosen not to help, who she had turned her back on._

_A moment later an arm slid over her shoulders, and she straightened up to fix Libra with her gaze. "You wanted me to see it." Libra nodded unashamedly, his eyes dark._

_"You needed to." He sighed then, a in a very heart-felt, Cordelia-type of way. "I needed you to. I must have an ally in this battle."_

_"No such thing as a time of peace." Robin turned her body to face him, moving in as close as she dared. "Anything. Anything you want from me, just ask and I'll do it." A strange expression passed over his face, but he nodded all the same._

_On impulse, Robin flung her arms over his shoulders and hugged him tight, burying her face into his bare neck. She felt a shiver wrack his body and his arms slid around her lower back, pulling her flush against his chest._

_It was, Robin reflected in that moment, amazing how far a little axe-swinging could really go. After a moment they pulled apart, the tiny space between them magnetic, and Robin suppressed a tingling urge to close the distance._

_As a way to busy her hands with something that wasn't an attractive priest, Robin served them both a cup of perfectly brewed tea. "This is my favourite, you know."_

_"Yes, I know." Libra's face was still solemn, but she could see the pleased look in his eyes. "I'm only sorrowful your first visit wasn't under more joyous circumstances. I have wanted to bring you here for quite a while."_

_Robin looked around, taking the time now the truly appreciate the stately little room. "This is an expensive tea room…how do you afford it? Not on a priest's allowance."_

_Libra smiled serenely. "I started charging it to the royal palace about two weeks before dear Chrom and Sumia were wedded." Robin's jaw dropped when she finished doing the mental calculation – around the same time she had received a very abrupt end to her courtship with Chrom in her letterbox._

_"You crafty **fox** , Libra."_

* * *

Robin nodded, finally untangling herself from her bedclothes. "I'll go to her this morning." Now Libra was no longer looking at her – his eyes were trained on the floor, though Robin noticed his eyes trembling slightly, as though sorely tempted to look elsewhere.

She looked down. "That is, after I wrap up a bit warmer."

Libra nodded, and practically fled. This would do wonders for the rumour mill.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always like to think of Libra as a bit more devious than people give him credit for.


	4. A Thousand Wasps Can Bring Down A Bear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For extra clarification, this storyline is set during the war with the Valmese. The flashbacks are set during the two year peace. That two year peace is a goldmine. Two years of basically 'use your imagination'? Yes please, I'll have another, thank you.
> 
> Thank you to Rin! I get a little worried my prose becomes too purple, but I'm very glad you've liked it!

 

"Lissa, are you available?" Robin called, lightly rapping on Lissa's tent.

"Uh, um, hold on!" Lissa called back, her voice high and squeaky with panic. A moment later, the tent flap was ripped aside, and Robin's heart sank when Maribelle's face was revealed in all its highborn, huffy glory.

"Good…morning, Maribelle," greeted Robin uncertainly.

"Good morning," she replied stiffly. "How can I help you, Robin?" Robin tried to peer over Maribelle's shoulder.

"I was hoping to speak to Lissa before breakfast…is she available?"

"Well, I don't know." Maribelle's tone made the muscles in her shoulder's tense. "What business brings you here?"

Robin fought to keep her face straight, though all she really wanted to do was match Maribelle sneer for sneer. "I was unaware it was a so unnatural to see a friend in the morning, Maribelle," she stated evenly.

"Well, uncommon, I must say," Maribelle sniffed. "One would think you'd have more important things to occupy your time."

"And yet, here you are, Maribelle," Robin answered sweetly. "Visiting even earlier than I am. I suppose at least one of us has been busy serving the camp." The girl flushed hotly.

"Yes, so I've been hearing – "

"Maribelle!" Lissa shouted from behind her. "Let Robin in and go wait outside!" Maribelle stepped aside reluctantly, and Robin managed to take all her desire to clock the girl soundly across the chin and channel it into a particularly childish raspberry. She shut the door on Maribelle's indignation.

Lissa was seated at the small table that Maribelle dragged out whenever she played tea ceremony. A steaming pot was already set before them. "Um, hi, Robin," Lissa welcomed her anxiously.

"Lissa, good morning," Robin replied, taking a seat across from her friend. Having been mulling over every possible worst case scenario since Libra's speedy exit, Robin decided to dive right in. "You've heard the news then."

"Um…we got a new order of lances?" Lissa jested feebly. Robin was not in a playful mood, what with half her sleep having been lost. She stared until Lissa's smile disappeared. "You had a lover."

Robin nodded, not having expected Lissa to state it so plainly. "Yes."

Silence. Fidgeting.

"How do you feel about it?" Robin finally pushed, and Lissa reacted as though she had been slapped.

"Ah! Well!" Lissa tugged nervously at her hair. "It's, um…Maribelle…Actually, there was this woman who would teach us about Naga, and she – well she was a little mad, but honestly what do you expect when you live over a tanner's shop? Anyway, Emmeryn once said that a lover – I mean, a husband – or a wife if you're man, like Sumia – not that Sumia's a man –"

"Is there an end to this?" Robin asked, wondering if she shouldn't call Maribelle back in and get her to examine Lissa's head.

"Yes!" Lissa exclaimed, pouting slightly. "What I mean is…I don't know, how I feel, Robin! It's all really confusing!" She dropped her voice urgently. "Everything I've been taught…is telling me you're a bad person."

Robin swallowed convulsively, breathing her way through the instinct to flee the tent. She was here for this reason. "Do you think I'm a bad person?"

"No!" Now Lissa was yelling, back to the wildly flailing fists that Robin remembered fondly. "No way!" She faltered. "But…I don't know, Robin. A lover. This could –" Lissa stopped, her face contorted with horror. "Oh man – Robin, quick! Smack me! I was just about to say how it'll affect your marriage prospects! I'm turning into a  _governess_!"

"We've caught it in time, I think there's still hope for a cure," Robin couldn't help needling, the princess, and Lissa sighed again. Big, Cordelia-type sigh.

"You don't understand my pain, Robin," she mourned. "Are you sorry?"

"About…what?" Robin inquired, totally blind-sided by the change in mood.

"Are you sorry about your lover?" Lissa repeated, shifting uncomfortably on her chair. "Maribelle says that if you repent or even if you can take back what you said…you might be okay."

"Would that be the right thing to do, Lissa?" The girl squirmed. "Do you think that it's right?"

"No, I don't know!" Lissa burst out. "I'm…just scared for you, Robin. Maribelle, Chrom and Fredrick keep talking about it – " ' _Oh, grand_ ,' thought Robin sourly "- but they won't tell me! I just get the feeling that it'll be bad for you." Lissa drooped. "I don't know anymore."

"They're just looking out for you, is all," Robin offered. "They – I don't know what they're thinking, either." It wasn't fair on the girl – she had been of age for almost three years now but her loved ones were still reluctant to bring her into the political machinations that kept a royal family on its toes. It was done out of love, but it would ill prepare her for life outside of their guard.

Lissa still looked uncertain and aware Maribelle most likely had her ear up to the tent, Robin leaned in a little closer. Education time. "Lissa, do you remember Ruami?" Lissa's brow crinkled in thought. "She was - is the daughter of a prominent judge," Robin prompted. "Short girl, adored watching Pegasus aerial shows." Nothing yet. "She went to your birthday celebration, Lissa! You played a ball game together and she fell into the koi pond – "

"Oh! Yes, Ruami!" Lissa beamed for a second, and then her face fell. "Yeah, sorry, I just -"

"You haven't seen her in a while," Robin finished, and Lissa nodded slightly guiltily. "That's because – have you ever seen a wasp rag, Lissa?"

"I – I heard Chrom yelling about them a few times." Lissa fidgeted nervously, clearly unsure how this was going to go. "I tried to find out but no one would tell me! Even Maribelle told me I'd find out when I'm older!"

"You're old enough," Robin said, a trifle harshly, and Lissa subsided from her burgeoning rant. "Those rags, stupid little newspapers and pamphlets, spreading filthy lies and rumours about as fact. They don't care who they hurt, or about the truth." Robin inhaled deeply, Lissa looking on with her mouth hanging open.

"Did they say something about you?" Lissa asked, hopping to her feet like an indignant sparrow, but before she could take off again Robin sat her firmly back down.

"No, nothing about me," Robin assured, and then pulled out the well-folded pamphlet. "Libra gave me this." She handed it over to Lissa, who unfolded it slowly with many confused glances back at the tactician.

Lissa took her time reading – She was a very expressive young girl, and Robin wished she'd taken the time earlier to teach her how to hide her emotions. She knew exactly which part she was reading by the stress around her eyes, her pursing lips and gently quaking shoulders.

The pamphlet was thrust back at her. "It's a lie, isn't it?" Lissa croaked, her eyes too shiny. "Ruami is easily impressed, but she wouldn't do  _that_. She  _wouldn't_."

"Ruami did not go to taverns late at night, she did not consort with different men and she did not fall pregnant," Robin stated, and Lissa relaxed. "She caught measles and needed to be sequestered away from her younger siblings. The footmen who brought her news were misconstrued as visitors of a different sort…" she waited a few seconds, until Lissa had composed herself. Robin stood up, crossed the small space to the tent door and rapped on it smartly. A second later, a slender, manicured hand extended through the flap bearing an embroidered handkerchief. Robin accepted the token, tapping Maribelle's palm as thanks, and then delivered it to Lissa.

"Why did Libra give this rotten stuff to you?" Lissa sniffled, blowing her nose noisily. "Why did he have it in the first place?"

"Libra and I have been working very hard on a project," Robin began, unsure of how much she was willing to release to Lissa, but she had faith in the girl, in her sense of fairness. "It's a secret project, because we don't know what people will think yet, and it is vital that we are able to continue it."

Lissa nodded, still dazed from the venom in the pamphlet.

"Would you like to know what happened to Ruami after that?" Robin asked gently.

"Yes…no," Lissa answered, her voice so small Robin could hardly hear what said. "I don't want to, but I have to. Emmeryn and Chrom always hear things that hurt them."

"You're just as strong as them," Robin encouraged. Lissa nodded, and sat up straighter in her chair. She already knew she was not going to like what she heard, and Robin had no way of breaking it gently.

"Ruami went into seclusion at an aunt's place," Robin explained halting, watching Lissa's face. "Away from any male company who was not family. Then…the church, the high priests of Naga, can perform this ceremony that supposedly 'restores' the purity of an individual. Not literally, but spiritually. Ruami's father paid – that is, donated a lot of money for the priests to do just this."

"But…Ruami didn't need it," Lissa said slowly. "She hadn't done anything."

"No, but even if – no, she didn't need it," Robin sighed.

"So, Ruami's father paid a bunch of money to restore purity…that was already there," Lissa concluded. "That's – that dumb! So it was more like, Ruami was innocent, and the ritual was just restore her – her, um, her – "

"Her social purity?" Robin nudged, and Lissa banged her hand on the table.

"Yeah! That!" Lissa sprang up and began pacing, flapping her hands as she ranted. "What stupid way to handle it! Poor Ruami, I wish I had gone to see her, or sent her a letter – anything! If I had been there I would have opened the door and spat in their face, the jerks!"

"Then you'd have been worse off, Lissa." Lissa spun to face her, her lower lip trembling. "You've never had your name dragged through the mud, Lissa. You are very lucky. It's not like being sent to your room or denied dessert."

"Is Ruami alright?"

"Yes, she's fine." Lissa huffed in relief. "She's gone to live permanently with the aunt. No leaving the house without an escort, no male friends and all female friends to be of certain…breeding."

"But Ruami. Didn't.  _Do_. Anything!" Lissa shouted the last word, eliciting a muffled "well, really!" from outside the tent. Both women ignored it.

"Do you see now why it is so important for me not to recant what I say?" Robin implored. "Ruami suffered so needlessly, because of something that's taboo. Something that is not spoken about, and festers away until it infects someone else."

Lissa sat down again, a tad uncertainly. "But Robin…what if they make you do the same?"

"They can't make me repent, Lissa," Robin scoffed. "Besides, I don't repent! No repentance from this woman! None, they couldn't squeeze a drop of atonement from me! I liked it. If it were…something I didn't want to do, maybe I'd feel bad, but I did like it!" Seeing Lissa's troubled expression, Robin decided to soften her approach. "It's been this way; I've been this way, this whole time. It has never shaken your faith in me. It's not like I did something truly terrible, like killed an innocent man or something."

"I think there are some around who would see it similar," Lissa mumbled. "They say it…tarnishes your moral character." Who was this ever mysterious 'They'? Robin felt like she needed a word or three with this entity. Or a heavy shovel and five minutes in a room with Them.

Lissa didn't say anything else for a few more minutes, and finally Robin got to her feet. "Just think about what I said. There's a lot that goes on that has been going on for too long. I won't sit around and let my people suffer."

"But you're Plegian," Lissa stated, and Robin flinched, her words thunking home like arrows.

"Doesn't matter," she rasped, then cleared her throat and said with more resolution, "It doesn't matter." She made her way to the door slowly, reluctant to let this go with Lissa wavering so clearly. But she almost to the exit when Lissa piped up behind her.

"Robin?" The tactician turned. Lissa was staring hard down at Maribelle's handkerchief, clutched tight in her hands. "This project…will it really help girls like Ruami?"

"Just like Ruami, and more," Robin replied, scarcely daring to hope. Lissa raised her eyes to Robin's face, and her face shone with determination, her mouth firm.

"I want to help," Lissa declared, jumping to her feet. "I can help! Robin, I can be amazing, you'll see! I've had the best people to learn from, I can be just as brave as Chrom, and Emmeryn –"

"Wait." Robin resisted the urge to rub her temples. Lissa was already deflating, though, and she couldn't risk losing a valuable ally at this point. Also, Lissa's crushed expression made her heart ache uncomfortably. "Lissa, dearest…I need you on my side because you want to be. Not because Emmeryn loved everyone, or Chrom is brave. I need you there because  _you_  are brave, and  _you_  are loving."

The heavy silence that had descended between them was broken by Lissa's giggle. "Lame, Robin."

"Pretty cheesy, I'm woman enough to admit it," Robin admitted, smiling sheepishly. "But it's true."

"Hey! We should talk to Chrom about it, too!" Lissa chirped merrily, clearly having bounced back to her former cheer. Robin got the curious sensation that her face was trying to back away from her frozen smile.

Lissa's own grin faded slightly. "He'd be a big help, Robin, he'd be way more understanding and – " Lissa stopped, tilting her head to the side. "He really hurt you, didn't he?"

Robin kept her eyes firmly trained on Lissa, fighting back the urge to study her shoes and possibly cry. Again. "Th-that's not really – "

"He hated it, too." Robin choked on her words, her mind pouncing on Lissa's simple statement like a starving dog on a hot meal. "He hated it so much. The council decided it, you know."

"I had – kind of heard that…" Robin said faintly, marveling that the gods saw fit to turn her world inside out before she had a chance to begin breakfast. "I don't -" But Lissa was nodding, and Robin was struck by the realization that Lissa had  _grown_. The baby fat had disappeared from her cheeks and she looked less like a well-dressed rake in her war cleric's regalia. Robin felt a jolt of guilt that Lissa had gone from an excitable girl to, well, an excitable young woman and she hadn't even  _noticed_.

"Yeah, he was so upset," Lissa said sympathetically. "He yelled about it for days, wouldn't see Sumia or anyone, really, except Frederick. Then for a few days he said nothing, just kind of slumped over his desk and tried to write you letters – "

"- And you know this, because you snuck into his study and went through his waste bin," Robin finished, and Lissa gave her a wounded glance.

"I had to know what my brother was thinking!" Lissa protested. "He really loved you, Robin. He still does. Good grief, it was hard to get him to shut up about you when you were courting!" There it was, rising up inside her – the fountain of hurt and sadness from an even greater reservoir of pain that she kept dark and stoppered inside her.

It brushed up through her chest and sent her heart pounding, throttled her voice and filled her mouth, making her purse her lips to keep the noises inside. Her head  _ached_. "I sometimes felt like  _I_  had gone out to dinner with you, or we had ridden out to Ylissean Lake, or sat by the fire and listened to you talk about how you visited Panne or convinced Libra to adopt a cat. There was a part of him that was filled by you, and even though he loves Sumia and wants to be a good husband to her…I don't think he'll ever be able to forget you."

Lissa stopped then, because Robin was weeping. The tactician had her hands clenched over her face, trying to smother her sobs and she had sagged slightly, but there was no mistaking it.

For a moment Robin lost herself, lost to the grief that struck her like storm waves on a beach. She was vaguely aware of partially sinking to the ground, of strong hands coaxing her to a chair and then thin arms wrapping around her shoulders. A fondly loved voice comforting her while her hair was stroked –

_-her head pressed into the woman's shoulder, her tears soaking into rough fabric. "Mummy, it hurts," she sobbed, yelping and crying harder when the nurse extracted another sliver of wood. "Ah-h-h, mummy, I want it t'stop!" The woman – her mother shushed gently, wiping away her tears and stroking her hair. "It'll all be over soon, my dear Robin," she said, she spoke, she hushed, she uttered, and her voice was smoky and thickly accented, like Robin's. "The pain will go away soon, just" –_

Robin realized her crying had stopped, staring at the vase of flowers. Of all the times to remember her mother's voice! Relief and happiness were at war with her misery, which clearly felt that since it had been there first it should have priority.

Misery was firmly ushered out the door.

"S-Sorry," Robin sniffled, making a show of shaking her head while filing away as much of the recollection as she could for later viewing. Lissa only nodded and gave her a handkerchief – this one was green, simplistic and cotton rather than silk.

"What, I started carrying my own!" Lissa barked. "I, um, may have borrowed this from Stahl, though." The girl flushed in a manner that put Tharja to shame.

"Good call, good boy, very clean," said Robin throatily, blowing her nose until she was quite sure she was able to speak again. "I beg your pardon, Lissa; I did not mean to behave like that."

"Sorry? Don't be sorry, Robin!" Lissa bounced on her heels excitedly. "That's, like, the very first time you've done that! In front of me, anyway! You're so strong but you don't seem like you trust anyone to see you when you're not a big, tough, wise tactician." Lissa beamed like a sunrise. "You can  _trust me_ , Robin. I've been waiting for it for a while, and you can!"

"I do." Robin surprised herself with that remark. "I do trust you, Lissa."

Lissa made a noise – Robin didn't have a word for it, but it was the kind of noise a very happy, very sweet little piglet would make. She doubted Lissa would appreciate the comparison, though. "I'm so happy to hear you say that!"

"A wise woman once said, 'it all has to begin and end with words'," Robin said, getting to her feet.

"…Is it you? Is it you who says that?"

"Shut your piehole, princess, other people might say it too!" Lissa rocked back and forth on her knees, laughing, Robin joining her a moment later.

"Phew, I'd better get going," said Robin reluctantly. "Breakfast soon and I'd like to stick my head in a barrel of water before facing the masses like this." Robin was not a pretty sight. Other women might achieve the crystalline tears, doe-like eyes and healthy blush, but Robin came out the other end blotchy, swollen and covered in more mucus than tears.

"Okay! I'll see you there." Lissa got to her feet, and had begun brushing off her dress when she remembered something she had wanted to ask. "Oh, Robin! Do you – "

Robin was already gone.

* * *

"Hmmm, looking a little worse for the wear, Robin," an icy voice cut in from her right. Maribelle stood just by Lissa's tent door, arms folded and resembling a very pretty thundercloud. "I hope you haven't left Lissa in a similar state."

"Lissa is as happy as a dog in a river of gravy," Robin responded tiredly, still trying to mop up the worst of her face with her sleeve. The treated fabric of her cloak, while excellent for repelling magic and turning aside swords, was not absorbent. Maribelle coughed delicately, and Robin lowered to find Maribelle's backup handkerchief being held out to her.

She accepted after only a second's considered, and Maribelle went back to staring down her nose at her. "How much did you hear?" Robin asked straight up, and Maribelle sniffed.

"A  _lady_  does not eavesdrop, Robin," she admonished, and scrunched up her aristocrat's nose when Robin tried to offer back the handkerchief. "Consider it a gift."

"Thanking you, milady," drawled Robin, keeping her voice as disinterested as possible. "Ladies do not snoop…what about Valkyries, then?"

"One must use every snippet of information one has on the enemy to be effective on the battlefield, no matter how that knowledge has been gleaned." Maribelle eyed her beadily, though without any real malevolence. "I believe it was you who taught me that, Robin."

"You're an excellent student, Maribelle," allowed Robin, her heart pounding again. She would die very young at this rate. "Am I your enemy now?"

The tension was palpable; both of them trying to outstare the other, but Robin could make a cat blink. "Enemy is so strong a word," Maribelle averted her gaze back to Lissa's tent, smoothly riding over her minor defeat. "I merely worry, that is all."

"About what?"

"About what your previous actions mean for this camp," Maribelle snapped suddenly, "And what effect they will have. You are playing a dangerous game."

"Does my past affect my ability to formulate a battle strategy?" Robin snarled, resisting the urge to rush up and shake Maribelle by her slender shoulders. "Will it hinder my capacity to cast from a tome, or wash a dish, or carry firewood? Will it hamper my sword stroke? Will it change your opinion of me so drastically that you no longer feel I will live up to all expectations?" Robin was squaring off for battle, but Maribelle stayed as calmly poised as ever, her parasol resting casually over one shoulder.

"Of course not, you asinine fool," Maribelle spat disdainfully, her face stormy. "Cease jumping to conclusions at once! Whatever your past is, or whatever your future will be; the way you are behaving  _now_  is idiotic to the extreme! You do not have to defend from an attack that has not come, and most certainly will not come from me!"

Robin shrank back from Maribelle's anger, her teeth sinking into her lower lip in shame. "I'm…sorry, Maribelle, I really…I should have spoken to you first about it, I didn't mean to assume."

"You did mean to, don't lie for my sake," Maribelle sighed, flicking her hair back into place. "And don't take my words as any sort of approval for it, either. I do not see it as at all seemly for a woman of your caliber to have engaged in such an act, and if you dare lead Lissa astray you will certainly hear about it from me!" She thwacked her parasol into her free hand, frowning deliberately. "But…we are friends. And friends may not agree but they do not allow their disagreements to come between them."

"Thanks, Maribelle," Robin said, her relief clear in her voice. She had dreaded Maribelle as the hardest to address, but leave it to the Duchess-in-waiting of Themis to completely clear that hurdle. It hadn't been exactly what she wanted to hear, but Robin was not at a point where she could be picky.

"You most undoubtedly should have begun with words, Robin," Maribelle admonished in a low, teasing voice. Robin resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Couldn't resist rubbing it in her face, could she?

"Anyhow, your abilities are quite satisfactory," Maribelle reminded her primly. "I'm sure your  _sword skills_  are quite up to scratch, too." Robin's jaw almost hit the dirt.

"…You just made a joke." At Robin's expense, true.

"I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about."

"You did. A  _sex_  joke, too." Robin's voice was trembling with glee.

"Robin, you fiend! A lady never makes jokes of such a nature!"

"What about a Valkyrie?"

Maribelle stuck her nose in the air and swept back into Lissa's tent.

* * *

"Can I sit here?" Robin jerked her head up from her hard inspection of her porridge. Lissa stood over her, fidgeting with her bowl, and just beyond her voluminous skirt, Maribelle watching them with the air of a mother bear.

"Please, the seats are for the people," Robin grinned, her eyes still rimmed red. Lissa sat down across from her with an almost indecent amount of haste, her hands slithering forward and grasping Robin's.

"I'm so sorry I made you cry, Robin," whispered Lissa. "I didn't mean to, I thought you knew all that stuff about Chrom."

"Your brother is a lunkhead sometimes," Robin commented lightly, making Lissa grin toothily but not entirely lose that glimmer of concern. "Thanks you. For telling me that, Lissa. It was actually something I really needed to hear."

"No problem, I have loads more! Um, but why?"

Robin shrugged as casually as she could, lowering her voice until Lissa had to lean halfway across the table to catch her words. "I guess…I just kinda thought it was a little courtship that I made a huge deal of. Got caught up in the romance like some silly schoolgirl with her frock half off. I felt like I had completely misconstrued his intentions and then I got angry because, well, I'm not  _stupid_. So either I was a terrible tactician for not noticing the blatantly obvious, or I was a love struck commoner who had been played."

Robin rubbed her eyes again – another reason she hated crying. Afterwards her eyeballs always felt like they had been marinated in hot pepper sauce, delicately rolled in sand and reinserted into her head.

"Do you still love him, Robin?" Lissa asked in a teeny voice, and Robin could practically hear the air being sucked into many a prying ear. The mess hall was the worst place for this.

"Yeah, a little," she said reluctantly. "Can't help it, the stupid face." Even as she said it she felt lighter, like a weighted cloak had been pulled from her shoulders. "Not so much anymore, I was pretty churned up the first few months but, ya know, I got over it."

"How?" Lissa asked curiously.  _How?_  Said the peeping faces around her. Robin had always been curious to see if you could kill a rumour mill by overfeeding it.

Robin made sure to keep her face blank for a moment, and then allowed the laziest, most self-satisfied smirk she could muster to grow on her face. "Found other interests."

She made sure to catch Libra's eye. He nodded, and she caught his meaning precisely.  _Brava_.

If only he knew.

* * *

 


	5. The Gilded Chains Of Blue Bloods

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The hexed fabric mentioned in this is an idea I've had floating about for a while now. The desert is not a happy place for heavy armour, and if a Plegian dark mage casts six hexes before breakfast it wouldn't be a huge stretch to hex their clothes.
> 
> Besides, I like to believe Robin's mother both loved her dearly and was terrifyingly adept at dark magic. That's my headcanon and I'm sticking with it.
> 
> As per usual, this is unbeta'd.

"Um, that won't work."

Robin looked up from her struggles with the great rent in her cloak, a frown creasing her forehead as a figure blocked the sunlight. "Sorry, what?"

The figure drew closer and revealed itself to be Noire, twisting and pulling nervously on her fingers. "Um, your cloak. Th-the needle and thread won't fix it, not properly."

Robin glanced down at her hodge-podge work. She was normally slightly better at mending her clothes, but the strange material of her cloak seemed to fight against her each time she tried to mend it.

"It doesn't like the iron needle you're using," Noire added helpfully, her tone slightly more confident. "Iron hurts it."

"Iron hurts my cloak," Robin repeated, trying to keep the scepticism out of her voice. "Should, uh, I have asked it?"

Noire's giggle was high-pitched and girlish. "No, no! That's not what I meant, Robin!" Noire hesitated then, clearly wanting to draw closer but not wanting to over step her bounds. Robin tugged her down next to her, showing her the ugly gash running almost to the hem.

"This cloak is normally so dependable," she complained, stroking the fabric as one would a feisty old cat. "I don't know how, but it deflects all kinds of spells, swords, arrows. But some just tear straight through it."

"It's because iron destroys hexes," Noire explained, as though it were a perfectly normal thing. Robin immediately pulled the cloak up to her face until it was an inch away, examining it for any blemish or signs of foul play.

"Who hexed it?" she exclaimed, running her hands over the lapels as though they'd sing their secrets. "And when? How?"

Noire carefully took her cloak from her hands, smoothing out the rumples left by her frustration. "All Plegian combat gear that's not armour is cursed for protection," Noire explained patiently, now clearly in her element…whatever that turned out to be. "Mother used to do it to our clothes. Mainly against mud, she hated washing…It's hexed to protect and repel, like your cloak, but most iron and steel armour won't take the curse." Noire stopped, because Robin had almost leaned into her lap and begun feverishly searching through her blighted cloak's pockets. "Um, Robin…Are you alright?"

"Yes! Fine!" Robin triumphantly pulled out a small, leather-bound book and an expensive ink pen. "Please, go on, this is amazing! I won't if Miriel knows about this…"

"Knows about what?" Noire asked warily, and Robin waved her hand excitedly to the innocent garment.

"This! All this…thisness! It never occurred to me that it could be magical, I just thought my clothes had strange properties!" Robin paused. "Come to think of it, that's a stranger thought than simply assuming magic. But still!" Robin turned an eager face to Noire, who blushed brilliantly. "Tell me more, Noire." Under hard scrutiny, with a pen poised to jot down her every word, Noire almost lost her nerve.

"Ah, um, well, from what my mother says, um, the desert where she grew up and trained is really too hot for heavy cloaks and thick armour," Noire spluttered, and Robin nodded encouragingly.

"Very true, mages aren't known for their stamina," Robin said cheerily, scribbling happily.

"Uh, yes, so…they'd hex the cloth to help ward off magic and lighter weapons," Noire said, peeking over Robin's shoulder to see what she had written. Sure enough, Noire's favourite tactician had written down everything, including her stutters and pauses. "But iron and steel are, um, mother said they're anathema to hexes, so it was a real problem during the war…" Noire didn't know what else to say, though she wished she had something to continue on with now she had Robin's undivided attention.

"Very clever," Robin mused, still making notes and very rough sketches in her book. "Do you think we could do something similar? Maybe not so applicable, we have a huge range of warriors, but any extra protection for Ricken, Miriel and Laurent would be very welcome. I always wondered why Henry and your mother favoured their Plegian robes so much…"

"Um, they're very versatile," Noire offered. "And mother hexed hers to protect against moderate climate changes."

"Do you think your mother would be willing to help me experiment?" Robin asked hopefully. Noire fought of an uncharacteristic smirk. Her mother would be over the moon, and would have her daughter to thank.

"I think my mother would be very happy to assist you, Robin," Noire assured, and the grin she got was reward enough.

"Excellent!" Robin's brow furrowed. "How do I fix my cloak, though?"

"Oh, that'll be easy!" Noire perked up now they were on safer ground. "You just need to use a  _silver_  needle so the hexes won't…I guess the best way to put it is  _crawl_   _away_  while you stitch it. And then while you stitch, you curse the thread and cloth."

Robin was looking at her with admiration now, and Noire ducked her head bashfully. "The dark arts were pretty much the only thing my mother talked about. I liked listening to her talk."

"It's really paid off," Robin smiled. "Tharja is lucky to have such an attentive daughter." They both sat in contemplative peace for a moment. "Does your mother talk much about Plegia?"

"A little," Noire answered. "Mainly when she's talking about a book she wants that she can't get here, or how an ingredient she needs grows in abundance in Plegia, or how freezing the winters are in Ylisse or – "

"I mean, does she ever actually talk about her life?" Robin pressed, plucking at a loose thread on her collar. Plegia was always at the back of her mind lately – her memories and new life in Ylisse sometimes clashed with glimpses of the person she had been before, and she was curious to find out about her native country. "What it was like living in Plegia?"

"Every now and then," Noire said, chewing on her lip. "Mother isn't really someone who lives in the past. She'd settle down in a bear cave if she had a cauldron and could test her hexes on the cubs."

"I'm glad she's not homesick, at least." Robin playfully nudged Noire with her shoulder. "Hopefully Tharja will be happy with an actual house and won't go hauling you off into the wilds."

Noire grinned at her, a lively look that suited her face, and then it morphed into a thoughtful expression.

"Robin," she began. "There's something I wanted to talk to you about. Well, something we all wanted to talk to you about."

Robin blinked. "Okay, but who's we?" Noire nodded to something just over her shoulder – Robin turned obediently and bumped noses with Lucina, the princess's stern face mere inches from her own.

Robin was commendably silent for a few moments, counting serenely to ten in her head while Lucina intensified her stare and a hysterical scream swirled just below her vocal chords. "Lucina. I will repeat what I told you in the bathing tent last week –  _stop_   _sneaking up on me_."

"Why was she – "began someone behind Lucina's head, and then was hurried shushed.

Lucina drew back all of a sudden and perched herself stiffly on the seat beside Robin, her hands firmly clasped in her lap.

"No," Robin stated flatly.

"No?" Lucina's eyebrows nearly rose to her hairline. "You don't know what I'm going to ask."

"I have unlocked latent seer powers, but they only pertain as to when you're going to grill me about your father." Robin piled her cloak into Noire's lap and got to her feet, switching her stare to the future children assembled behind Lucina. "You, however, are a mystery."

"We're moral support," Cynthia chipped in obligingly.

"For  _who_ , exactly?"

"Ehhhhh," Cynthia shrugged. "Jury's still out!"

"Bodes well." She turned her attention back to Lucina, who, to her credit, was waiting patiently for Robin to speak. "We've been through this. Your father and I are friends."

"Always have been?" Lucina challenged, and Robin resisted the urge to throw Noire at them as a distraction and beat a hasty retreat to the next country.

"No, not always," she admitted grudgingly. "We courted for a while."

"…And?" Lucina prompted.

"And  _nothing_!" Robin fought to keep the petulance out of her voice. It wasn't even noon yet. "He married your mother  _and_  that was the end of it. The saga was finished. We closed off that chapter. Our author found better things to do. The book of romance was written and it was remarkably short."

Lucina was frowning, but it wasn't the incensed, slightly fanatic grimace she usually wore when something challenged her father's honour. "And you swear – avow on the lives of all in this camp, that you have no scheme in mind for him?"

"If I had the years, I'd be pledging it so 'til wyverns wear raincoats," Robin answered wearily. Lucina's expression didn't budge, so she relented. "I swear on the lives of all good men and women in this camp." And because she was Robin, and she never missed a set up, she added, "plus Inigo."

"Hey!"

Lucina looked tentatively convinced – their relationship had drastically improved since their last clash, but Robin got the feeling that Lucina would never truly trust her. There was always a look in Lucina's eyes, like she had misremembered something important.

The princess looked like she wanted to say something else, and Robin had no doubt Lucina could talk for days when angered, but Robin had something else on her mind.

"I assume this is because you all know about my past mystery lover?" she asked frankly. The group of future children all began to talk at once.

"Sure did!"

"Yea, t'was a revelation that shook the camp!"

"Um, mother told me about it…"

"A  _not_  unpleasant surprise, fair Robin."

"Ch'yeah, ma went on for hours."

"Yes."

"Pfffft, as if we could miss it."

"…"

"The chatter made me nervous!"

"An unexpected revelation, though the debate it provoked was equally fascinating."

Lucina held up a hand, and the group fell silent. "We did," Lucina said acidly. "Do not think this will distract – "

"Do you care?" Robin interrupted. The group stared at her quizzically, and their collective reactions were beginning to unnerve Robin. "Do you care that Ylisse frowns on pre-marital flings?"

"Sure don't!"

"Such things are unworthy of ire!"

"Hee hee, you could give Inigo tips, he needs to improve his success rate."

"Shut  _up_ , Noire!"

"I don't give a patootie. But if ma asks, I fainted and don't remember the question."

"I avoided it only because they don't make armour for pregnant women."

"Gawd, like it matters."

"…"

"It's not an issue to taguel! I think."

"In our own future, with our prospects bleak and survival the ultimate goal, we had neither the time nor the inclination to observe customs that would only hinder our likelihood of success."

"End of discussion!" Lucina's declaration finally shut them up. Lucina glared at them until they began to reluctantly disperse. Noire smiled at Robin apologetically before scuttling after the pack. Lucina turned to leave as well, but not before flicking Robin a small, white hanky.

"Go and see my father, please," Lucina muttered. "He sent me with a summons. He'd like to talk."

The princess left.

* * *

"Chrom?" The prince jumped about a foot in the air.

"Oh! Robin," Chrom wheezed, clutching his chest. "I wasn't expected you to just come in."

Robin's brow furrowed. She had expected to come in and see a pile of new maneuvers he wanted to discuss or even – hope against hope! – some news from their dwindling scouts. The Valmese were proving to be every bit as tough and wily as they had feared.

"I've…always walked in before. I apologise." He still looked strange, shifting from one foot to the other and occasionally rubbing the back of his neck. "Is…there any news I should know about?"

Now Chrom looked positively baffled. "What? Didn't you want to talk to me?"

"Lucina said you wanted a word," Robin explained, a seed of foreboding budding in her stomach.

"But Lucina said – " Chrom stopped, his mouth hanging open. "…That crafty girl.'

"If your Lucina turns out half as cunning as that girl, I think the future of Ylisse will be in good hands," Robin commented, a smile twitching. Chrom looked momentarily proud – he clearly adored his future daughter.

Robin cleared her throat to get his attention back. "I did actually want to speak with you about something else – "

"I don't mind," he said hurriedly. "You know, with the mess tent and everything. I mean, what happened in the mess tent. What you said. With the past lover and all. It doesn't bother me. It would have if we'd been married, but we're not, and you're a free woman so I don't see why you wouldn't have had a – I don't mean you're a bad type of woman, not that's it's bad to – dear gods, Robin, will you not stop me?"

Robin ducked her head in an effort to compose herself. "I don't know; blabbering seems to run in the royal family. I'd best alert Lucina, she has a right to know."

"She'll find out soon enough." To her mild surprise and discomfort, Chrom settled down on his large cot and patted the spot next to him. Robin deliberated for a few seconds, and then edged her way over, seating herself with a good foot of space between them. They had previously been comfortable sitting closer, even when their attraction to one another had been nothing more than lingering glances, but now…Robin could only think that Sumia shared this bed with him, every night.

Chrom appeared to be mentally mapping out the conversation ahead, and Robin had an inkling as to what was on the horizon. "Lissa told you to speak to me as well, I imagine."

Chrom groaned and agitatedly tousled his hair. "Does everyone in my family know what you're thinking besides me?"

"I don't know; let's go ask Owain what he thinks," Robin suggested a mite too readily. In truth, her heart was thudding apprehensively, and her palms were already breaking out into a cold sweat. This was not a conversation she really wanted to have right now. But she didn't know if she would ever be ready for it.

"I just - from what Lissa was saying, and just over the past – I never really got to speak to you and I – " He glanced at her, but found no charity. "I'm sorry I hurt you, Robin," Chrom said at last, still staring down at his hands. ' _You should be_ ,' snarled a part of her, the part still madly stinging from humiliation and rejection.

"I'm…I'm sorry I hurt you, too," Robin answered quietly. Chrom's head jerked up, his wide eyes glued to her face. "I'm not thick. Well…A little thick. I know it wasn't exactly your idea, but I didn't want to talk to you – "

"I wanted to talk to you!" Chrom burst out, angling back towards her. "I wanted to – to apologise and explain what had happened and – " his face twisted painfully, "I just wanted to say I love you. I wanted to say it again."

' _Don't cry don't cry._ ' The tears came unbidden, and as they slipped down her cheeks Chrom caught every one. "I really would have liked to hear you say that again." Robin pulled out the handkerchief Lucina had slipped into her pocket. Clever girl. She blew her nose noisily and drew in a deep, calming breath. "It was a lovely wedding," she offered, giggling croakily when Chrom screwed up his face petulantly.

"It was too long," he said grumpily. "And people just talked the whole time! And I had to start the first dance, with everyone watching!" Robin started laughing richly then, and Chrom's face brightened considerably at the return of her ever-near good humour. "Awful! I nearly crushed poor Sumia's feet."

"Yes, I could see her wincing," Robin added cheekily, earning herself a light punch to the shoulder. "Though, it could have been a lot worse if you hadn't already sacrificed that table of fine crystalware to the gods." Chrom shook his fist melodramatically towards the sky.

" _Damn_ them and their unending _thirst_ for my _disgrace_!" He shouted, sending Robin off chortling again. They were both abruptly silence when a stack of books toppled suddenly off his desk, taking the inkwell with it and spraying them both with blue liquid. They sat in stunned silence for a moment amidst the carnage, then slowly stared at one another wide-eyed.

The spell was broken by Chrom's snigger.

"I-I think we should take that as a sign of their disapproval," Robin trembled out, a smile tugging hard at the corners of her mouth. Chrom was in a similar state, using the unsullied edge of his blanket to try and blot up the worst of it and his tentative composure on the verge of collapse.

Robin dabbed at her face with her handkerchief, wishing she had a mirror so she could see the damage. "You danced a lot with Libra at the wedding," Chrom added nonchalantly.

"Yes, I suspect he was trying to keep me away from the champagne fountain and the strawberries," Robin said breezily, hoping Chrom wasn't going to ask where that tureen of fruit had disappeared to. She still had the dish stashed away in her roof.

Chrom's thoughts were clearly going down another path, however. "I mean, it was – " he fell silently, head bowed. "I wanted to talk to you at the wedding, but every time I tried he was taking you away."

"Well, I suppose so," Robin admitted, toying with one of her slender braids. "Honestly, though, do you think it would have been a good idea to talk at your wedding? At best it would have ended in a shouting match." Chrom still didn't look convinced, and Robin rested a gentle hand on his shoulder. He stiffened, and she drew her hand away hurriedly. "It was…Sumia's day as well. I saw no need to spoil it. She's loved you for as long as I've known her."

Chrom blinked in that slightly daft way that made Robin exasperated and warm all at once. "Oh…she has?"

"What do – good grief, Chrom!" Robin hit him in the arm, slightly harder than she intended to. "She's your wife, don't you ever talk?"

"Not…not that much," Chrom admittedly, slightly shamefaced. "We get along very well; we just don't spend that much time together."

"Well…you should." Robin's heart clenched, but she ploughed ahead regardless. "She's your queen; you need to operate with one mind and purpose." Robin blew out a sigh. "Sumia has a lot to contribute to Ylisse; you do her a disservice by not working in tandem."

"I still wish it were you," Chrom said sullenly, the bitterness in his voice souring Robin's spirit. "I wish I had been stronger. I wish I had been able to see you." He finally looked at her properly again, his red-rimmed eyes made Robin want to hold him tight and hope her affection could seep through her embrace to sooth his worries. "I wanted to see you so badly, to tell you myself, but they wouldn't let me speak with you. I even tried to get Gaius to take you a letter, but then the wedding was announced and – " Chrom broke off, but Robin was filled with new understanding.

"They probably knew I'd run circles around them," she said tenderly, reaching over and ruffling his hair. He leaned into her touch this time, but she still pulled away.

"You would have," he said sadly. "You would have found everything you needed to change their minds. They didn't want me to see you because they knew if we put our heads together we could blow them away." His head dropped into his hands, and though his shoulders were still Robin could hear his breath coming in uneven and heavy. "I was so lost, Robin, I needed you there and…and you weren't."

And now she knew. As much as he hated himself for being able to fight back, he blamed her for not coming. She could understand. She blamed him for a marriage that was clearly out of his hands.

"It could have been different," Robin whispered, and he nodded jerkily.

"It could have been." The tent was oppressive, the air thick with wretchedness and regret. Robin dragged her hands through her hair and tried to blink away the moisture brimming in her eyes. She was about to speak when a sound cancelled out all thought – it was a sound she hadn't heard often, only once or twice and even then only after Emmeryn's death, when Chrom had clung to her in her sitting room for hours, his face buried in her neck as he –

Robin was at his side in an instant, her arms sliding around his shoulders and pulling him close. She didn't shush him, or tell him it would be all right. Robin was not much of a liar, and Chrom wasn't to be fooled by such sweet nothings. He resisted for only a moment, then it was like they were back at that awful time again, with his arms desperately tight around her waist and his hair tickling her cheek. His weight melted into her chest, fingers digging into her back, and the first cry that burst from him etched itself on Robin's soul.

Robin had no idea how much time passed as they sat there, softly stroking his head as he poured his grief into her shoulder. His whole body shook, wracked with sobs that came from a place deep inside that had festered in rage and misery. Robin did not speak – she allowed him to pour out his sorrow, his hopelessness and fear into her, biting her lip the whole while to keep in her own weeping.

There would be time for her release later – her king needed her.

Chrom eventually stopped shuddering, his sobbing faded but he remained slouched against her, pressed close and breathing in shakily.

"I never thought I'd hold you again." His voice was muffled, weak and exhausted, but lighter. "I never thought…you'd hold me, either." He sounded a little embarrassed by that.

"I never thought I would, either," Robin answered, still playing with his blue locks. "I miss you. A lot."

"I miss you, too." Robin felt him deliberate, and then he lifted his head. She fought back a smile, even in this moment. His face was blotchy, swollen and resembled a child more than a prince. "I love you. And I _won't_  stop."

Robin's throat tightened, for a moment she feared the pressure in her chest wouldn't allow her to say something at this crucial moment, this second when Chrom was looking at her so hopefully. "I love you too."

Every night, Robin would carefully catalogue her day. Every joke, every quip, every insult, every mistake. Committed to memory was each bit Owain would inevitably launch into; Tharja's snarky quips; Gaius's latest sugar conquest; Inigo's optimistic pick up lines. She would recall Lissa patching up Henry and simultaneously scolding him for whatever injury he had incurred, Panne fixing Olivia a cup of tea – she would smile upon recalling another of Miriel's longwinded explanations or Brady trying to lift one of Kjelle's axes.

She would go over these because she was privately terrified of forgetting the wonder and bliss her new family had afforded her. She filed these new memories as she filed her returning old ones, and prayed to Naga every night that they would be there when she woke up the next morning.

Even so, the expression on Chrom's face was one she was sure she would never forget, even if she wanted to.

* * *

Robin strode back to her tent, head high and face relaxed. She greeted her fellow Shepherds as she went, evening pausing to speak with them briefly – compliment Anna on her wares; playfully threaten to tickle attack a joyously shrieking Nowi; subtly poke fun at Gerome, who took it all with an air of slightly miffed stoicism.

It took slightly longer than simply sprinting back to her refuge would, but Robin was nothing if not an expert at keeping up appearances. Even so, she took the last few meters slightly faster than what she normally would have, and nearly screamed in aggravation when she burst into her sanctuary and it was already occupied.

The two intruders proved to be Libra and Cordelia, who looked up from what appeared to be an intense conversation as she walked in. Nothing for said for a moment, her two friends studying her face intently.

They stood as one – Libra went and closed the tent flap while Cordelia gently took her hands and sat her down on her cot. The Pegasus rider then fetched a stack of neatly folded handkerchiefs from Robin's desk and Libra carefully sat on Robin's right, his warm fingers covering her limp hand.

"How do you feel?" he asked at last, Cordelia on Robin's left and eying her with clear unease.

Her friends knew her well, and Robin needed that so much at that moment that the tears she'd been clamping down on finally welled up and over. "Really rotten," she squeaked, pressing her face into the fist hanky of what would likely be many. "Like, really dumb and stupid. And selfish. And sick." She couldn't speak after that, pressing the cloth over her face and blubbering into it for a few guilty minutes.

Libra's arm went from her hand to around her shoulders, Cordelia stroking her hair and tightly holding her now free hand. "Is today over yet?" Robin finally asked wearily, one red eye peeking out. "I'd like to go to bed. What time is it?"

"Just past lunchtime," Cordelia said sympathetically. "Sorry, Robin. Do you want to stay here for the rest of the day? I'll tell everyone you're not feeling well."

Robin cringed and finally lowered the handkerchief, which had thankfully caught the worst of her outburst. "No, it'll just mean I get even more people coming to check if I'm okay. Which is great, lovely of them! I just…" She trailed off, her eyes unfocused, and Libra caught Cordelia's eye.

Some form of wordless communication passed between them over Robin's head, and Cordelia extracted herself gracefully from Robin's grasping hand. "I'll go get you some food, at least," she said brightly. "You need to eat, Robin."

Cordelia slipped outside, leaving Libra and Robin alone. It was a relief, actually. Robin always felt she had to talk to Cordelia, make conversation and keep things interesting. Libra was comforting, and his presence was a soothing balm regardless of their level of chatter. There had been several winter days where Robin and Libra had simply sat by her fireplace and read, scarcely saying a word to each other beyond offers for refreshments. It had been peaceful and shared only between the two of them.

Libra turned her to face him, one delicate brow furrowed in worry. "Would you like to talk about what happened?" He asked, his thumbs rubbing in soothing circles over her shoulders. "You don't need to."

Robin tried to avoid his gaze – she wanted very badly to talk to someone about it, to be reassured she had made the right decision. But to talk to Libra about…that made her feel strange. Sort of perverse, like she was crossing a boundary neither of them explicitly stated was there.

But if she couldn't trust Libra, she couldn't trust anyone. That was a belief Robin had lived by for a while now, and it had never failed her. "We…cleared some things up." He nodded, neither shutting her out nor urging her on. "It was good, to talk finally. It's been coming a long time now; I've just been craven and put it off."

"It's good you've broached the subject," Libra agreed, pulling her slightly closer. Was it her imagination, or did his grip tighten? "You seem a bit different."

"I feel a lot different." Robin's eyes fluttered shut, and Libra pulled her in for a tight hug, resting his chin on her head much the same way she had comforted Chrom. She could hear and feel his heartbeat, steady but slightly fast. "…We said we loved one another." The beat skipped, and then sped up. Hmmm. "And we kissed." Now it was like a drumbeat thundering in his chest, and Robin lifted her head ever so slightly, just enough to see his face. Libra's countenance was perfectly neutral, set so immovably it was like it was carved from wood.

He spoke with difficulty. "You – you may need to explain."

* * *

_Robin disentangled herself from Chrom's embrace, the need for fresh air outweighing to desire for his proximity. "I love you," she said again, but this time her tone was different. Chrom nodded, his face already understanding, and Robin was once again alerted to the realization that a dear friend had changed without warning. When they had first met, Chrom would have picked up on the change, but his first reaction would have been demanding answers._

_He knew what was coming. "We make a good team," he stated, standing up and pulling her up with him. Robin already had her arms out in anticipation as he wobbled and almost fell. "Argh! All the blood rushed to my head," he winced, righting himself_   _quickly._

" _I guess it had to get there sometime," Robin remarked, earning her another punch in the arm. "Ow! Stop beating on your tactician!"_

" _Gods, imagine how sassy you would be if you didn't get punched every now and again,"_   _Chrom retorted, a smile cracking his lips and causing a matching one to light up Robin's face._

" _It would be unbearable," she agreed._

" _I would have married you." Her smile flickered slightly. "I wanted to. I had the ring; it_   _was made for me when I was young. I…would have had to get it resized, but I still had it." He shook his head as if trying to dislodge those thoughts. "I sometimes wonder how things would have gone if I'd given it to you when I wanted to, instead of waiting."_

" _I…sometimes wonder if things could have been different, too," Robin confessed. "If I had paid more attention to the council, or gone to see you during that week." She huffed and shivered, averting her gaze so she didn't have to see him so raw. "Things are different and…I'm glad you're still in my life."_

" _I'm glad you're still here, too," he said, his smiled strained but genuine._

" _You're the greatest friend I've had," Robin added, and Chrom treated her to an eyeroll._

" _And the first," he sing-songed._

" _By, maybe, milliseconds!" Robin protested. "Lissa could very easily have been my first friend. Or even Frederick. You were just the first to pick me off the ground!" She scowled,_   _though without rancour, and he laughed a great, relieving belly laugh._

" _I was mainly afraid of losing your friendship." Robin returned his earlier punch. "No, really! You wouldn't talk to me, Cordy wouldn't talk to me, and I couldn't even find Panne. Whenever I saw you Libra was there, giving me the holy stinkeye." He dragged his hand over his face. "I wanted to marry you, but I really need you by my side regardless of how that comes to be – I keep turning around expecting you to be there."_

" _I…think I can," she said slowly. "But I really need some time. It's been…" she had no words to describe the last few months._

" _Stupid," Chrom offered._

" _Yeah, stupid." Chrom kissed her then – it was no more than a delicate brushing of lips, but it spoke volumes. It also surprised Robin that instead of the melty, warm feeling she expected, she had to fight off instinctive recoil._

" _Just a goodbye," he rumbled when he pulled back, trying to make light of it. "I never got to say goodbye."_

_Robin nodded, already stumbling backwards to her exit. "So long. Another time, then."_

* * *

Libra passed Robin a dry handkerchief. "So…it was…a goodbye kiss?"

"I could have done without it," she said morosely, resting her head on Libra's shoulder. "It just made me, I don't know, wanna jump into a lake."

"You didn't like it?" Libra asked, surprised and with a tinge of victory.

"Not really! Well, yes, but it was strange." She righted herself now, trying to regain some of her dignity. Her story had taken the better part of ten minutes, mainly because Libra kept making her stop and repeat parts. Even so, Robin found it a bit odd that Cordelia had yet to return. "There are still feelings there for him, but not…the same ones. I love him, but not the way I did." The memory of his kiss flashed in her mind, causing her to flinch and madly scrunch the hanky. "'Gads, Libra, it was like kissing a brother!"

"That's a good sign, then," he said impartially, his arm rising to again rest across her shoulders. "You'll be back to a good working relationship in no time at this rate." Libra's eyes closed and a small smile settled on his lips, a self-satisfied tilt that made Robin want to touch it.

Robin scooted a little closer to him, so close their arms brushed and set Robin's entire right side aflame. She could see him staring out of the corner of one cracked eye, but he only held her tighter.

"I do have to ask, though."

"Yes?"

""Why are you covered in ink?"

Grand.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These flashbacks are getting LONG.
> 
> Still unbeta'd.

"Hey, Bubbles?"

Robin jerked her head up from her desk, blinking blearily. That had sounded like –

"Snoozin' again, Bubbles?" Gaius. Robin stifled a yawn and slowly found the source of his voice – lounging on her bed. "Nice fleece you've got here, Robin." Why did everyone seem so fascinated with her bed? Robin couldn't muster up the energy to shoo him away.

"It is nice," she agreed, forcing back a yawn so fierce it made her eyes ache. "And I wasn't asleep; I was just walking the emergency route skirting the Valmese territory. It requires a lot of concentration and coincidentally, my eyes were closed."

Gaius gave her a strange look. "And how did that go?"

"Not so well," Robin said regretfully. "I slipped away perfectly fine at first, but the lack of cover once I got out of the trees lead to me being quickly discovered by patrolling wyvern riders. I was disemboweled in short order."

"So…that's not our emergency route?"

"Not our  _primary_ emergency route." Robin mustered up a disapproving look when Gaius' own expression was less than enthused. "Beggars fleeing a potentially disadvantageous situation can't be  _choosers_."

Gaius scratched his nose and shrugged in relent, his own eyes dark and tight with weariness. "Hey, if it gets us out with our hides intact…I've been at worse odds."

"Practically a blessing from you, then," Robin smiled, her face turning serious after a second. "What did you find?"

Slim fingers dipped into a hidden pocket, drawing out a slender cylinder, black lacquered and totally innocuous. There were no seams or latches – it looked like a decorative piece of wood. "I got lucky, actually. I was takin' down notes, troop numbers, weapon grades, and I figured I'd get a little closer, see if I couldn't get a read on their patrols…"

He pressed down gently on an area that looked exactly the same as the rest of the container, but after a moment one of end silently twirled open. He pulled out several rolled of pieces of parchment, and Robin grinned when she recognized at least one of them as a map. "You genius," she praised, and Gaius grinned proudly.

"Not bad for a few hours scouting," he allowed, preening under her gaze, and then his face turned slightly more solemn. "Bubbles…they're close. They definitely haven't detected us yet, but if we move any closer we're in for a hard skirmish."

Robin sighed and set the information aside for a moment. "It's a precarious position, I know, but I can't move us further away. Panne's been sending back reports, I've got Nah in the skies as much as I think I can risk it, and this is the weakest point for us. If we move now, we'll get a lot worse than –" she glanced at one of the reports written in his spidery script "– fifty troops?" Gaius nodded, a look of sullen fear haunting his eyes.

Robin groaned and rubbed her eyes tiredly. "Fifty is actually the best I've heard. We'll be punching through in the next three days, if Panne comes back." Her word choice was ominous, but the taguel's last report had been short and worrisome, and Robin couldn't shake the fear that gnawed in her belly. "And provided this debacle with bloody Plegian and bloody, damn, poxy Ylissean social standards dies down…"

"Don't expect it any time soon, Bubbles." Gaius's voice was surprisingly grim. "For Ylisseans it's as ingrained as eating breakfast in the morning. This stuff doesn't shift easily."

"And what do you think?" Robin rolled her eyes at his uneasy face. "Oh please, you must've heard me ask half the camp by now. It's a _wonder_ this war has progressed at all. Any day now, I expect a letter from Walhart chiming in with his opinion. "

"Well…" Though her answer had been flippant, Robin waited with baited breath. "I really wish you hadn't done it. Or that you hadn't mentioned it." Robin exhaled hugely, disappointed souring her gut. She had hoped – no, expected Gaius to be more understanding.

Sensing her displeasure, Gaius ruefully rubbed the back of his head, avoiding her stare. "Aw, Bubbles, it's nothin' against you personally. Really, I like you, trust you with my life. But I've seen too many girls in the gutter because they, well…they spread their legs."

That made sense at least. Gaius probably would have seen the worst of the results, as Robin was just becoming acquainted with. "I can realize that, Gaius, but I'm not going to the gutter," she said firmly. "And I've seen my share of what can happen to those girls."

Gaius looked at her curiously. "Really?" He baulked when she glared poisonously. "I mean, not doubting you or anything, but, you know…" he gestured up helplessly.

"What?"

"You just…Chrom's such an ivory tower kinda guy…"

"You figured I would be, too?" Even though she still stung from the accusation, Robin had to admit it was not unjust. "That's…fair. I was for a while, but Libra – " Gaius's grinned turned knowing and strangely hopeful, "– has brought certain things to my attention."

No going back now. Under his impatient gaze, Robin began to talk.

* * *

_Robin was confused as to what exactly roused her from her sleep, her addled mind tangling together the last threads of her dream and the sounds echoing through her house. She shook her head violently and fumbled out from under her bedsheets, the sharp shock from her cold floor enough to give her some semblance of clarity._

_Something tapped lightly at her window, which was very confusing for Robin because she was certain her bedroom was located on the second floor. In her experience, nothing good ever happened at – she squinted at the ornate clock on her bedside table – two thirty six in the morning._

_Robin stepped around the beam of moonlight shining through the glass, keeping to the edge until she pressed herself up against the corner of the windowframe. She counted to three in her head, peering out the corner just as a tiny, round object hit the glass again._

_Ylisse may have been quite a temperate country, but this winter had been quite cold, with frost etching patterns across her windows every morning and a layer of ice coating her small garden. Robin had grown used to seeing a fine layer of mist in the morning sunlight – now, while the sun was still hours away, the mist beyond her garden fence was thick and dense – whoever was outside had brought a lantern to aid them, and the light turned the pearly clouds almost ethereal._

" _Robin, please let me in," called a hoarse, familiar voice, and before she could contain herself Robin was scrabbling at the window latch, throwing it open carelessly. Leaning out far enough to almost break her precarious balance and send her plummeting into the rosemary, Robin strain to see into the fog, her hands slipping in the frost gathered on her windowsill. At first nothing stirred, then the light swung closer, and she caught a glint of flaxen hair._

" _Libra?" The light shuffled closer again, her gate creaked open, and Libra stepped out of the mist like a spirit, half-hauling a dark, trembling bundle with him. "Am I going to regret asking what that is?"_

" _Let me in. Please." Robin bolted from her window and out her bedroom door, hissing when her feet touched the freezing wooden beams of her hallway. She took the stairs three at a time and almost collapsed in a heap when she suddenly reach the bottom, but a lucky grab at the banister gave her a magnificent recovery and by the time she reached her front hallway she had built up a quite a turn of speed._

_She slammed into the front door with a bit more force than necessary, causing it to shudder in its frame. Robin fumbled at the heavy iron deadlock, trying to work some feeling back into her frozen fingers, and finally was able to wrench it aside. She paused for a moment, then cracked the door open an inch. "Were you followed?"_

" _Not yet." Libra's voice was startlingly close – he was clearly anxious to come in. Robin stepped back as she opened the door, letting in Libra and a waft of freezing air. "Don't turn on the lights, Robin. Lights at this hour are strange."_

" _Come into the sitting room, the blinds are heavy and I can light the fire." She ushered him through a door on the left, easily maneuvering around her familiar furniture to roll down heavy wood slates over her picture windows. As soon as they had clacked into place a singular lamp flicked on by the fireplace, and Robin turned to see Libra deposit his whimpering bundle onto the sofa._

_Libra straightened up, staring at the wall as though lost in thought. Robin padded up to his side, noting his robes were soaked through and in some places badly torn. A bruise had begun to form on his cheek, and he worried at a split lip. "You go set the kettle on to boil, I'll start a fire." Libra nodded and disappeared through the gloomy doorway. A minute later she heard her boiler clunk to life._

_Recalling his sorry state of dress, Robin padded after him, wincing everytime her feet stuck to the cold, polished wood. "I've got some spare clothes that might fit you," she called out softly as she leaned around the doorframe. Libra's head was bowed over the kettle, his shoulders slumped, and Robin felt a conflicting mixture of compassion for him and ugly anger at whatever had brought him to her doorstep. "They're not women's clothes, either."_

" _A bonus," he responded softly, though his heart was clearly not in the retort. Robin slid away then, retrieving the loose clothes from the airing cupboard. What with Gaius occasionally seeking refuge in her spare bedroom, Frederick stopping by for sparring and a flat-out_ _ **insistence**_ _that Vaike wear a shirt when he was in her house, Robin had found it prudent to keep spare clothes in hand at all times._

_She dropped them off on her kitchen table, and Libra nodded to her in thanks while he added the tealeaves to the pot. It was her favourite, with a touch of fresh chamomile from the bunch Panne had picked for her. She smiled as she tiptoed back into her sitting room._

_The bundle had not moved since Libra had left, though it still cried like a wounded animal. Robin quelled the urge to take a peek at exactly who or what Libra had brought to her, and instead tried to concentrate on the comforting routine of building a fire._

_She had just set one of her expensive matches to the kindling when a bump behind her made her turn sharply, dropping the match into the embers and swiping up the poker. But it was only Libra, bumping clumsily into the doorframe as he struggled into the cotton shirt; the trousers already snug around his hips._

_Robin's gaze slid down then, taking a few sneaky, guilty seconds to drink in the sight of Libra. Robin always expected him to be more lean than he really was, more smooth, but no. His arms and chest were well developed, and a light dusting of fine pale hair ran down his sternum, over his stomach and into –_

_Robin turned her face away to the fire, staring hard into the rising fire._

" _Did you look?" Robin almost dropped the poker. "At whom I brought in." Oh._

" _No." Robin prodded idly at the logs, then partly closed the iron doors so the fire would have a chance to take. She heard Libra move; his footsteps nearing her like a hunter approaching a deer. He sat next to her, and she couldn't help but steal a glance at him. He wore the clothes she had given him quite well, giving him a far more masculine appearance._

" _Why?" he asked eventually._

" _You tell me why you brought this to me first," she answered evenly. "You want to hide this, it's very clear."_

_Libra didn't say anything for a little while, choosing to stare at the glow washing over them from the crack in the fireplace doors. Robin opened them fully and wedged the grate into its place – the fire had caught very well, flooding the little room with warmth and chasing away the bone-deep chill that had settled over them._

" _I couldn't trust anyone else," Libra said at last. "I couldn't trust the Watch, or any of the others I know, or even," he sighed, "even my brothers and sisters at the chapel. I could only bring her here." Their gazes met. "Why did you let me in?"_

" _Unusual, for you to be wandering the streets at this hour." Robin's gaze dragged over to the bundle of cloth shivering on her sofa. "I know you have good reason for it." And there it was. She knew he understood._ _ **You don't need to tell me who that is, because knowing why you brought them is enough**_ _. Robin was struck by the urge to smile, the corners of her mouth tugging upwards – it was a state of being that she had with Chrom before the Wedding._

" _She ran to the chapel for sanctuary." Libra's soft voice broke her reverie. "As far as we could tell, she had been seeing an older boy, unescorted and unapproved by the patriarch of the family. He gave her a purity test earlier this evening, and when her cloth didn't run clean…" his voice trailed off, firelight playing into the hard, worn lines of his face. Libra couldn't be older than twenty three, but sometimes he looked as though he had half a lifetime of grief etched into his face._

" _How did you get her here?" Robin asked gently, aware that the sobbing had quieted into keen silence. "Surely she would have been sent to the sisters first."_

" _The father was drunk, on whisky and fear." For wont of anything else to do with his hands, Libra removed the cover to stoke the fire, sending a gust of sparks up the chimney. "The sisters locked the door to the haven and I took her out the back. The other refugees were frightened and I thought it best to take her somewhere safe."_

_Robin grinned toothily at this. "My house is safer than your chapel? I don't think my wood and shutters could compete with stone walls and iron bars, Libra." She rested her back against the base of the sofa, a little overheated now the room was heating up. The fire would also be heating up the water pipes hidden in the walls, and with any luck her frozen bedroom would be just as toasty by the time she returned to her covers._

_Libra turned to her, his mouth parted to respond, and curiously…stopped. His whole body stilled, even his breathing slowed, and he leaned forward as though tugged by a thread. His gaze was dark, pupils blown so wide that all that was visible of his iris was a glittering ring of jade fire, the firelight caught up in gold flecks._

_Libra never looked less holy, with his hair coming down around his face and a shuttered expression that Robin could not completely decipher. He was worn, tired and worried, but something else softened the look, like a vein of raw gold through cold grey rock. The poker thudded to the floor next to him, and the tiny vibration that Robin felt set her emotions flinging themselves heatedly against the gates of her control._

_The shirt she gave him was quite loose on him, and as he shifted the collar parted slightly, allowing her another glimpse of his chest, painted in shades of gold and shadow in the low light. She met his eyes again, and Libra must have seen some of what she was feeling, because he inhaled sharply through his nose and dropped his gaze. A part of Robin, part of that raw darkness that threaded through her mind, crowed triumphantly at being the dominant one._

' _ **Take**_ _ **it**_ _,' it urged her. '_ _ **Take it for yourself. He's yours, has been from the moment you plucked him from the sand, tear him from his light and make him forget the name**_ _ **Naga**_ _.' The last word came with a malevolence that frightened Robin, and she firmly locked up that voice, pushing it back until it was no more noticeable than a mouse rustling through leaves. Still, it did nothing to stop the thrumming scything through her body, and Libra's expression was bordering on eager._

_She moved first; leaning forward and deliberately placing her palm down into the thick shag rug. Libra's eyes flickered up to her face, then down to the collar of her nightgown, his tongue wetting his lips, and then he was moving forward, his ragged breathing swirling in her ears and almost drowning out the frantic drumming of her own heart. He smelled of incense, books and ever so slightly of sweat, a scent that filled her head and made it light and bold._

_They were close now, inches apart, Robin could feel his own, personal heat, hear his fingers digging into the rug, their noses brushed and –_

_The bundle on the couch yawned, shifted, and Libra withdrew suddenly, swallowing hard enough to make his larynx bob nervously. He stared hard into the fire, drawing one leg up to rest his chin on his knee._

" _I brought her here because you are the most frightening person I know."_

_Robin, who was still leaning forward and probably fixing him with the most intense stare she could muster up, was snapped back to sanity._

" _I'm the scariest person you could think of?" Robin's face was skeptical. "You know Gregor lives just outside the walls, right?"_

" _Gregor cannot obliterate a cliff face with a single blast of lightning," Libra retaliated. "Gregor did not clear a street buried under six feet of snow with the precise use of an Arcfire tome. Gregor did not tidily break the arms of an assassin who got the drop on Chrom during an official dinner, and then publicly collaborate with Maribelle to see the assassin got a fair trial. Gregor is also not the well-known royal tactician who has connections everywhere and a whole troupe of highly trained warriors who are more than ready to come running at her summons." Libra fixed her with his own hard stare. "He is also not renowned for his mother bear attitude. Unlike you. I brought her here because I knew no one could touch her if you chose to take her in."_

" _And why are you so sure that my protection will extend to the girl?" Robin challenged, though she knew it to be already a moot point. Even if she hated the girl, the mere fact that Libra had come to her with such faith was enough. Libra was clearly willing to seal the deal, though, and nodded to the asylum seeker._

" _Look at her. Please." Robin sighed, got to her feet and quietly padded over to the bundle, automatically sizing it up for potential danger. It was obvious that even under the rags she was bundled up in, the girl was small and skinny._

_Robin gently drew back the cloth covering the girls face._

"… _Libra." Robin voice was strained. "This girl can't be older than sixteen."_

* * *

Gaius slouched down on her bed, his eyes wide. "Geez. Sixteen?"

"Just old enough to be considered an adult." Robin's lips thinned. "Though she won't tell us if she  _is_  sixteen, so we have to take Libra's information as gospel for now."

"That's rough, Bubbles." A brief wave of thoughtfulness passed over his face. "Is that why you told me not to hide out in your roof for a while? Though, this explains the talk in the taverns."

" _What talk_?"

Gaius almost fell off the bed. Robin was on her feet, her face twisted with rage. "About me?"

"Yeah, you!" Surprisingly, her face relaxed, and Gaius gained some clarity as to her abrupt change of mood. "Just you. No priests mentioned, nothing. They're sayin', well…that you're running a whorehouse."

"Out of my little cottage? Unlikely." Robin dismissed this in short order, though her pulse was still racing. "I'd appreciate it if you didn't mention this conversation to anyone in camp. Could be considered kidnapping, harsh words might be exchanged, Henry's been itching to try out a new curse…"

"Yeah, yeah, no problem." The silence between them was still stifling. "So…did the girl's dad ever come find her?" Robin stuck out her tongue at him.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" she challenged, and their banter was interrupted the changing of that night's watch. "Go get some sleep, Gaius."

"I will if you do, Bubbles," he countered, even as he headed for the door.

A thought occurred to her, a memory stirred up by the retelling of that night. "Gaius…what is a purity test?" Gaius's expression turned stony. "A cloth needs to run clean? Is that right?"

"Yeah, well…" Shuffling his feet, Gaius once again avoided her gaze. "It's…it's supposed to be that a girl or a boy pricks their thumb, lets a few drops fall onto a piece of white silk. Then they rinse it in purified water. If the blood washes out, it means they're pure, unsullied."

"I'm going out on a limb and guessing it's not a perfect method." Gaius smiled humourlessly. "That's going to have to stop."

"You're the one to do it, Bubbles."

Gaius went to bed. Robin got to work.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: Libra and his axe. What a perfect pairing.


	7. The Rabbit Who Faced A Mob

"Hmmm hmm hmm…I lost her in the violets, sprays of violets, she fled through the meadows, and I lost her to the breeze…" Robin's voice was tiny; a soft utterance under her breath, but it was still the only thing that penetrated the silence. The birds had not been present in this part of the forest since the day before, and Robin had been observing quietly since then.

She had her suspicions as to who was lurking on the edges of their camp, but just in case they turned out to be incorrect she had the reassuring weight of a Thoron tomb tucked into one deep pocket. In case she was correct, she had a hot flask strapped to her belt.

"…Hmmm she was a lady, a lady of the seas…" The shadows to her left shifted almost imperceptibly, "…she left me, ran for…" Robin paused, holding her breath when a shadow blinked over her head, dropping her into darkness ever so briefly.

Robin spun lightly on the tips of her toes, hands sliding into her pocket to scratch the spine of the tome. The motion set warm tingles up her fingers as the magic entrenched in its pages responded to her touch. Her mysterious companion in these woods was just outside the dappled light Robin stood in, a tiny clearing from the oppressive trees. The grass, dewy from the fresh morning left wet streaks on her trousers, but she paid it no mind.

The shadow sniffed, apparently waiting for something. Robin obligingly closed her eyes, though her battle instincts, honed from paranoia and too many close calls, screamed at not to be so vulnerable. An organic ripping noise came from the vicinity where she had pinpointed her follower's location, and though it made her stomach turn Robin kept her eyes firmly closed.

"How does the story end?" Robin opened her eyes and smiled warmly at Panne, who was focused on readjusting her scant armour.

"The story doesn't end, Panne," she explained patiently. It was probably the thousandth time Panne had asked this to her, about some song Robin was singing, or tale Olivia told. But Robin was happy to answer a thousand times that. She always liked the answer. "Only the song ends. The story goes on, even if we don't know the rest of it."

"But if it did, how would it end?" Panne persisted, stiffly meeting her eyes. Though Panne had shifted in front of her many times before, the taguel had explained that outside of battle it was considered polite to shift somewhere private.

Robin shrugged. "Maybe he would catch the maiden. Maybe he would never see her again." Privately, though it was meant to be a silly folk song, Robin preferred that idea.

"When she reaches the shore, she puts on her seal skin again," Panne continued, staring up at the morning sky. "She leaves the foolish man-spawn who called her wife, and the children she bore him."

"I would too," Robin admitted. "To be held in captivity, even if he loved me more than anything…I'd run for the sea the first chance I got."

Panne looked at her shrewdly. "Captivity on your mind, then, Robin?"

The tactician sighed. Another good, Cordelia sigh. "Camp has been very strange, Panne." Robin handed Panne the flask, and the taguel opened it immediately, letting out a sweet croon of delight as the scent of carrots wafted over them. Solo scout work was risky business, so Robin always made sure Panne had something waiting for when she arrived home.

"Because you revealed the existence of a former lover five days ago," Panne noted, and made a face when Robin's jaw almost hit the floor. "The birds that follow the camp are about as gossipy as the camp's inhabitants. I keep an ear out in case I am…needed back." Panne took a swig of the broth to hide her discomfort.

"How's the scouting, Panne?" Robin asked gently. Robin always began to worry for her taguel friend around day three, and Panne had been gone another three days longer. "What did you find?"

"Much of a muchness." Panne folded her arms restlessly, peering out amongst the trees. The birds had, happily returned, though now Robin knew they were in cahoots with Panne their tweeting had a sinister edge. "The Valmese are closing in. I took out three of the scouts who got too close to camp, but I may have…missed one." The strangled words barely forced their way out through Panne's lips. "If he was there, he was very good. I only suspected there may have been another when I caught a whiff of Pyrus."

Robin's heart sank. An aniseed bomb was the favourite in the city when escaping trackers, but out in the wilds the rank, potent smell of Pyrus was preferred. "That's disgusting."

"Think how it is for my nose, Robin." Panne hacked and violently spat out dark fluid. "I was hit with one of their foul alchemist concoctions. It wouldn't affect man-spawn, but…" Panne's eyes were dark, serious. "Robin, it was crafted for taguel. They know us. We're being watched."

A bird fluttered between them, cheeping an inappropriate amount for the mood set by that weighted revelation. Behind her carefully set expression her mind was a whirr, tinted with fear and an inky ribbon of excitement.

' _How had they found their way to the camp? Well, stupid question, I could think of a dozen ways they could have gotten here, but how had no one noticed? I could forgive Yarne not smelling them, but Nowi? Nah? No, either my dragons are being drugged or – maybe they were being drugged? We set up camp near a clean source of water, but who was to say that supply hadn't been compromised in other ways? How had no one_ _ **noticed**_ _?'_

"The camp has gotten bored," Panne stated, staring out into the foliage. "Complacent. I know you know I've been out here at least a day, Robin, but the only others who noticed me were the manaketes and the thief. The Valm could strike at any time and we would be washed away." Panne cut her gaze to Robin. "Perhaps they are spending a little too much time speculating your history."

"Well I wish they'd stop," Robin said bitterly, trying to ignore the aggravating pool of shame and embarrassment that seemed to unfailingly occupy her stomach nowadays. "It doesn't seem fair that this other man has so thoroughly churned up the camp and I can't remember his name to save my life."

"Do you think he defeat you in combat?" Panne asked curiously.

"What? I don't think so.  _Unlikely_ , thank you."

"Did he give you a bauble? Write you a poem? What else do man-spawn like in their courting process?"

"Gah, I don't know!" Robin resisted the urge to repeatedly smack her forehead in an attempt to knock the stupidity out of her life. "I don't even know why he was there! I don't think of him as anything, well, worthwhile. He's so vague – it's like trying to describe the grocer you bought your vegetables from seven years ago."

"Then why do you care?" Panne asked impatiently. Human relations got on her nervous and made her foot thump.

"Everyone else does!"

"Well that's a  _stupid_  reason! You say 'I wish' like a simpering little maiden from one of your man-spawn songs! I've seen you fight for others, but now not for yourself? You are being weak, Robin."

"I know! Wait." Robin raised her arms up in what she hoped was mostly placating and not panicked flailing. "What I mean is it matters so much to everyone else. It's been hurting people."

Panne gave Robin one her patent if-you-were-a-taguel-none-of-this-would-be-an-issue glares. "I've seen."

* * *

" _Miss Robin?" Robin looked up from her reading at Karin's hesitant call. The sight of her standing in the doorway, nervously wiping her damp hands onto a dishcloth made Robin heave a heartfelt sigh._

" _Karin, have you been doing my dishes again?" she asked with as much patience as she could muster._

" _There was only a small amount, Miss Robin, it was no trouble," the girl muttered mulishly. This was the only matter that Karin insisted on butting heads with her about. Since Robin had moved the maiden into one of her spare rooms, she had insisted on taking on the majority of the housework, up to and including screening Robin's visitors – an incident that had baffled Stahl and sent prim Miriel into fits of laughter._

_Robin, who thought of Karin as a houseguest, was mortified by the idea of her lifting a finger in her household, and had spent the first few days chasing Karin away from the sink, or ordering her to cease dusting._

_Finally they had settled on an uneasy truce, wherein Karin could dust and fold laundry but nothing else; even though this clearly displeased the girl enough that she would sneak out of bed to polish the floors._

_Libra, who was spending almost as much time in Robin's home as Karin, would merely smile and send Karin on her way._

_He was smiling now, the cheeky bloody priest, seated in the overstuffed armchair by her fireplace. Robin had never really been fond of the chair, but she decided that she liked it provided Libra was the one sitting in it._

" _How can we help you, Karin?" he inquired, closing his own book and giving Karin his full attention._

" _Well, I just…" Karin sucked anxiously on her lower lip. "My dad and his friends are at the front door, Miss Robin."_

_None of them spoke after this – Karin was twisting the rag between her fingers, Libra was staring intensely at Robin, waiting for her next move._

_Robin nodded; marking her place with a pressed flower bookmark Cordelia had given her for her birthday, and carefully balancing the grimoire on her towering stack of books. "That's not very kind, surprising us like that," she said serenely. "Did you answer the door to them, Karin?"_

" _No, madam." The girl was truly scared now. "M-Miss Panne called to me from the door who they were, she told me to tell you."_

" _Oh, delightful!" Robin was trying not to enjoy for this. She had been anticipating such a visit for a while now, and relishing the chance for it to happen. A dark storm had been brewing inside her chest since she had first seen Karin's eyes, flat with terror, staring up from her prone position on her sofa. "Dear Panne's come to visit! I expect she wants to see how her vegetable patches are coming along."_

_She smiled brilliantly at Libra, who returned it with the saintly tilt of lips only he could muster. She was giddy that he was here with her – confrontations such as these were fun when she was on her own, but when Libra joined in it was a game she could play for hours. "Libra, would you be as kind as to greet Panne? I expect she's enjoying the sunshine the front yard gets, and I'd hate for her to feel neglected."_

_Translation: 'things are going to get very amusing or very messy. Panne knows what's up and she won't leave them unguarded.' He tilted his head towards her, his eyes glittering with a most unpriestly mischief._

_"A charming notion," Libra agreed brightly, launching himself upright. "I have a minor maintenance task that I have neglected recently, so this would be an opportune time. Spend a few moments with Panne, enjoy the unseasonable weather – " his smile was predatory, "-greet the neighbours." That was something she loved about Libra. He knew when to play along, and when to hold her back. He gave her balance._

" _There now," Robin said soothingly as Libra swept out of the room, leaving Karin wide eyed and unsure of what was to happen. "Libra's just going to sit with Panne." She patted the spot next to her, and Karin came to sit after just a moment's embarrassed hesitation._

" _Karin, do you want to go back with your father?" Robin asked gently, even though Karin was already frantically shaking her head._

" _N-no madam," Karin squeaked, bunching up the dishrag in her hands. "I r-rather like it here, I – " her gaze turned worried, "- would you prefer me to go?"_

" _Certainly not!" Robin said sternly. "You are a fixture here now; it would distress me if you left so abruptly." Karin shyly cast her eyes downward, her cheeks flushing pink. Robin got to her feet and gave her an awkward pat on the shoulder. "Karin, if you would fix us some afternoon tea I would be most obliged." And it would nicely tuck the girl away safe and sound._

_The girl brightened like a Sunday morning at finally being asked to do something, and hastily got to her feet, curtseying her way out and assuring Robin that she would begin to prepare her tea and snacks immediately._

_There. That was Karin taken care of._

_Robin peered out through the half open wooden slates covering her window, spying one, two, three men even from her limited view of her front door. She could, however, also see Panne, seated up on the sandstone wall that divided Robin from her neighbour, dexterously tossing a Beaststone from one hand to the other._

" _This is the way it will be, then," she muttered, idly tracing the dark mark imprinted on her hand. She would have had to deliver her declaration to Karin's family eventually, and though she had not yet discussed it with Libra – a twinge of guilt pricked at her conscience – she was reasonably certain he would not protest to her solution._

_It was clean; it was political; it would drive several people to absolute howling fits, an additional benefit that Robin was most appreciative of._

_Unable to stop the smile rising on her face, Robin strode to her bedroom to ready for battle._

* * *

 

_**Scrape.** _

_It was, Libra reflected from the front stoop, a very nice day._

_**Scrape** _ _._

_One of the nicest he'd seen in a while. The hard winter was softening into a very tender spring; some of the swelling buds on Robin's apple tree were already extending a shy blossom or two; a spray of green misting over her garden; Panne had returned safe and sound, and he was able to spend hours with Robin and Karin, a pretend family of sorts…_

_**Scrape** _ _._

_Her cottage was becoming more of a home to him than the chapel._

_**Scrape** _ _._

_He had always been careful not to read too much into Robin's words, her smiles and gestures. He never wanted to be that sort of friend, the kind who waited about hopefully for a sign of affection and then became embittered when their lack of action resulted in a lack of satisfaction. He wanted Robin to be happy, whether or not that was with him, though a large part_ _**hoped** _ _it would be with him._

_**Scrape** _ _._

_But after that night, the night he had brought Karin to her, when she had looked at him as though he were the only person in the world – Libra suppressed a shiver. If she had touched him then, pushed him on his back, even with Karin in the room Libra was not sure he would have been protesting._

" _I heard there were gentlemen calling for me?" Robin said pleasantly as she stepped through her front door – even though he was sitting down, her hand was able to rest on Libra's shoulder. To the average onlooker, the soft trousers and form fitting blouse she wore was suitable for the oncoming spring, her hair pinned back stylishly and the books grasped in her hands a forgotten chore._

_To Libra and Panne, she was wearing light, easy to move in clothes perfecting for dodging strikes, hair out of her eyes and a stack of nasty tomes at her fingertips._

_If her enemies had been there, and if any of her enemies were still alive, they would be beating a smart retreat._

_Libra turned his eyes back to the ragtag group he had been covertly studying. There was only about nine of them, but armed with the kind of lethal weaponry civilians handled everyday in their everyday jobs. Pitchforks, butcher knives, wood axes, shovels, ice saws were only a few of the items these men were bristling with._

_Coming heavily armed to a negotiation with Robin was never a good idea. Libra smiled beatifically, and held up his axe to the sunlight._

_For inspection._

_The weak beams glinted off the edge with grim promise. It did not actually require sharpening, and the little kit he had would not make much difference anyway. But it was important to keep up appearances._

_Robin caught Panne's eye and exchanged a nod – despite exploring Ylissean's wildest reaches for several months, the taguel was clearly still ready for a fight._

_The apparent leader of the group tried to muster up a decent glare, but it was fast withering under Robin's diplomat's smile. Robin felt Libra's shoulder heave as he stifled a laugh – this was not a mob meant for daylight. This was the sort of mob you got under a blood-red sunset, or in the dead of night with flaming torches casting demonic shadows that matched their enraged howls. They needed that darkness, to hide the mixture of anger and uncertainty that was all too apparent under the scrutiny of dawn._

_They were still plenty frightening, but they were men. And if things got ugly, they would die as men do, day or night._

" _You would be Mister Soap," Robin said, and now she had her Tactician's voice on, ringing clear across the group and probably drawing a few nosy neighbours closer to their garden walls. "Karin's father." Her eyes stayed fixed on his, boring down past the thin layer of defiance and through thick terror, paying the strata of dread no mind until her was sure she could see into his core. It was concern for his daughter, veined with rage at being defied. "Do you have business with me? No appointments were set. I do not take unexpected visitors." Her eyes narrowed. "Though, nor do I take appointments."_

' _And was it you?' Part of her screamed. 'Was it you who hit her so hard she spat out two teeth the next day? Was it that blow which dislocated her cheekbone? Was it you who told her she was worthless? Or was that someone else, who told she was difficult and capricious and now no one could love her, because she was damaged? It may not have been you, but you knew._ _ **You knew**_ _.'_

_Some of what she was thinking must have caused her expression to slip, because the mob took a collective step back. Robin carefully reschooled her expression to something near civility. "State your business." She did not have to tell them to leave. Some of the men on the fringes of the group were already edging away._

_Papa Soap was clearly buoyed by something other than cheap liquor, and took a few challenging steps forward. Robin didn't blink, even as Libra's axe spun like a silver bird to form a defensive stance before her. Her fingers tightened their grip on his shoulder, and she was momentarily distracted by the thought that she wished they were alone, in her room, and her touch was not stifled by his thick robe._

_Panne bounded up from her casual sitting position into a crouch, balancing perfectly on the tips of her toes, then launched herself ten feet into the air with the grace of an acrobat - the beaststone glowed garishly in her outstretched hand, and she was enveloped in light at the apex of her leap. She landed in her full taguel form, conveniently between Papa Soap and his compatriots._

_Panne yawned. Her rabbit teeth looked a lot less adorable when spanning the full length and width of a grown man's hand._

" _It's a brisk morning," Robin commented as though her two closest friends had not just openly threatened the lives of a mob they could, admittedly, handle very easily. "It's nice day." Libra smiled faintly at this, for some reason. "I wouldn't want it sullied by any…untoward action, Mister Soap. I suppose you want your daughter back."_

" _Yes," he said gruffly, shuffling his feet. At this distance, Robin could see his red-rimmed eyes. "Her brothers an' sisters miss 'er. Her mum wants 'er back. She has duties to her family." 'Your heart is about to go out to him,' she told herself sternly. 'Keep your heart in your chest.' She conjured up the memory of the first time she laid eyes in the girl, and her heart hardened._

" _Karin stays," she said crisply. "She's a fast learner, I require her assistance." She really did not require a helper – Robin enjoyed keeping her house clean, it was something that had a set beginning and end. No variations, no need to worry if the dishes would have their efficiency crippled by wet terrain, the possibility of an aerial assault requiring extra cover for cleaning the chimney. "She may make a good…" now Robin was at a loss. Karin would be a ward, of sorts – what could a ward do?_

" _\- apprentice," she finished, trying not to cringe at Libra's barely contained gasp. Damn. She was in it now; Papa Soap looked more dumbstruck than angry. "Yes. Apprentice. That is what Karin may come to be. Apprentice. To me. Apprentice. Is what I said. Good day. Panne, please allow Mister Soap to pass unscathed."_

_Robin withdrew as gracefully as she could back into her hallway, Libra gliding after her with the serenity of a swan on a lake. Only once they were beyond the gaze of the now disheartened mob did her stare at her incredulously._

" _I couldn't think of anything else," Robin muttered childishly before he could speak. Panne tried to hop through the door at that moment, her hind legs getting caught in the doorframe. "Panne, no, I can't keep replacing my front door!"_

* * *

"Yarne spoke to me at dinner," Robin said idly as they made their way back to camp. "Said he could smell you out in the woods but you weren't come out. Said you ran away every time he tried to come near you." Robin cut her eyes to Panne. "He seemed pretty hurt by that, Panne."

"It was necessary, to draw you out here," Panne answered dismissively, though the way she tugged at one braid betrayed her emotions. Despite her reticence to accept the future Panne had an intimate relationship with Lon'qu – who seemed quietly keen on the idea - the taguel was fond of her future son.

"I was worried about you, Robin," Panne said softly, her eyes dark and unreadable when Robin met them. "I can hear what they whisper about you. It was distressingly clear amidst the normal soldier chatter. What does the exalt have to say?"

Robin shrugged, uncomfortable with the abrupt change of subject and that they were now venturing into Chrom territory. "He wasn't too concerned. It was odd, Panne. We had a good talk – " Panne's expression said that she suspected more than that, and Robin wisely ignored it, "– and we worked some stuff out…I'm still not over what happened, but I don't want to lose sleep over it anymore. My time is short."

"Libra will be pleased to hear that," Panne noted, a flutter of a smug smile passing over her face when Robin visibly perked up. "He was worried that losing Chrom would eat you up."

"You and Libra talked about me?" Robin asked, perversely interested in what they had to say about her.

"Quite often, about your diet, your work habits, your injuries, what books you're reading…" Panne glanced at Robin out of the corner of her eye. "A little about your love life." And wasn't that a delight, to see Libra's feigned nonchalance.

Robin went red. "I'm capable of minding my own business, Panne."

"Like how you mind mine and Libra's?" Robin blanched. "Oh yes. 'A little bird' told Libra why I tore into a few of those soldiers. Little bird…pah, surprisingly unsubtle for him!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Panne is my spirit animal.


	8. Make Your Own Miracles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We near the end of this story. Not this chapter, but close. Probably a good thing, I've got so many plotbunnies a-hoppin' in my head there's fur puffing out of my ears.
> 
> Un-beta'd, as per usual.

Robin never felt less prepared for a battle. She had entered combat with only her name and rudimentary knowledge of how to defend herself, her skin only saved through the efforts of three strangers and an almost supernatural ability to oversee a warzone and this was still the worst combat situation she had ever been in.

The Valmese were so close. She had asked Frederick to step up the training slightly, but fretted she was driving the troops too hard after a period of rest. But if they didn't shape up they would be slaughtered. But if they were overworked they would be exhausted, unable to defend themselves and would be slaughtered.

She stared at her map of the area until her eyeballs ached, first wishing she had a reset button for the past week, and then solemnly vowing to never allow their combat drills to slacken again. She would grind through every training session with every member of their motley crew if it meant not being put in such a humbling, bowel-knotting situation again.

The Valmese, she was sure, knew that they knew. They must. Their encampment had gone curiously peaceful for a day or so, running through their routines with a joviality that sent Robin into conniptions. But Panne reported an underlying buzz of foreboding activity – the weapon prep, the extending patrols, the checking and rechecking of supplies.

The other Shepherds noticed as well. Libra and Cordelia had, of course, been informed immediately once Robin and Panne had made it back to the tactician's personal tent. Tharja had been informed by the simple fact she had been tucked under Robin's cot at the time. Henry had been informed in much the same manner, though only because he had refused to come out from under the covers and he was reasonably trustworthy.

After a brief internal argument, Robin had then brought the matter to Chrom's attention, and had remained sequestered away with him, Frederick and Laurent for the rest of the afternoon to plan the next stage. Normally Robin went without meals over this time, but they had been brought of steady supply of fresh ink, tea and sandwiches from Tharja and Libra.

But both Nowi and Nah had come forward to say they smelled enemies too close. Yarne came later, not gibbering in terror as Robin expected – instead every muscle in his body was wound tight as a spring, his face so frozen he could hardly speak. Lon'qu, Virion, Cherche and Gaius all came forward to report, and each time they were informed of the situation and given instructions.

Robin had wanted to keep this very quiet, very innocent. She had a plan – not one that Panne was happy with; she had grown very fond of the rolling hills and woodland in this particular area. But Robin wanted to see everyone get out alive – unscathed would be an enormous bonus. If they pulled this off it would be a miracle.

They had finished their preparations at precisely four thirty six that afternoon, and Robin had assumed her position in her tent. Unfortunately she hadn't planned how she would fill the hours until the Valmese attacked. She was too agitated to read a book or mend her clothes, and the only thing she could think to do was recount her books. But she had ended up sitting on her bed for a good half an hour, a picture spread out in her lap with her books strewn about her, forgotten.

The Valmese had attacked at sundown. That had been a clichéd but admittedly clever plan, not that Robin would waste any time informing them of this. They had just begun lighting the camp fires when the first flaming arrow had torn through Robin's tent.

It was not something she had anticipated, and it prompted a very real scream instead of the fake one she had been preparing. Method acting at its best.

It had struck her desk, distressingly close to her imprinted hand, and immediately set fire to her stitched together maps. The arrowhead shuddered and seemed to disintegrate, spreading out a viscous pool of opaque liquid that the fire immediately caught. The exterior of her tent was treated to be reasonably fireproof, but the furniture inside was not so lucky. In a matter of second Robin was backpedaling away from her inferno of a desk, and she realized the Valmese were better equipped than she had first imagine.

For a moment she panicked, her mind flashing to her aerial units, but she dismissed it out of hand. The timing may be perfect for catching them flatfooted, but a lack of proper light meant her riders could keep to the vaulting skies and hide quite efficiently in the darkness.

She heard unfamiliar boots. "Aaaaah!" Robin added for good measure, picking up her favourite tomes and eying off the less precious volumes. Her few cherished possessions were never far from her, and Robin stared longingly at carefully laid out drawing she just had to admire that evening. It was not martial, but it was very important…

A scream drew her back to the present. Robin was very good at identifying screams, ranging from 'ouch-this-girl-just-punched-me-in-my-favourite-face' to 'this-saucepan-is-seriously-hot' and all the way through to 'I-am-about-to-die'.

This scream was on the serious end of the spectrum.

The Valmese soldiers about to pile into her tent were very  _briefly_  surprised by a swelling burst of white-gold fire just as they tore through the flap. After that, Robin decided what they thought was known only to the gods.

She stepped carefully through the swirling ashes, and raised one of Miriel's chemical bombs to the sky. She fired.

Green light bloomed.

The manaketes set the forest alight.

* * *

Libra was worried.

It didn't really help that Nowi and Nah had lit up the forest. Their flames had been so intense the boiling sap had turned many of the treetrunks into deadly shrapnel, but Libra supposed Robin had planned that, too. Quite a tidy number of the Valmese legion had ended up impaled, crushed or incinerated before they had even cleared the treeline.

Libra sometimes felt very unwell about her capacity to kill.

But for now, Robin was not within sight, and that made him nervous. She was a hardy woman and preferred to put herself on the frontlines where she could protect her soldiers, but she had a habit of taking on the tougher opponents to prevent her companions being injured.

If he had been paired alongside her, as he usually was, Libra would have felt a little better about it. But he was with Cherche clearing out the last of the Valmese resistance in the forest.

Robin's plan had worked too well. She had anticipated the majority of them to come from the thickly forested hills, where mist tangled in the branches and made it virtually impossible to efficiently patrol the skies. Her destruction of the woodland, which had burned so completely a forest fire never had time to spread, meant that most of the foot soldiers had perished and the wyvern riders were fleeing to assist their comrades at the spearhead from the plains.

Aside from Cherche, Libra was left with Nowi, Nah, Cynthia and Vaike, the last of whom was grimly beheading the final weeping soldier. They could not afford to take prisoners, or even let them go. Any scrap of information Walhart received was a crippling blow to any advantage or flexibility Robin could devise.

She had told all this to them, but even she was not happy about it.

"I hate having to do that," Cynthia said glumly, reigning in her pegasus. "It's not…heroic."

"It is an evil of war," he consoled, though the words came out mechanically. Where was  _Robin_? In the thick of things, no doubt. Smoke and magic had formed a particularly bulky bank of clouds off towards the plains, and all too frequent lightning made his guts churn. He wanted to be over there at her side – every second that passed filled his head with more horrific scenarios. Robin run through with a spear; Robin falling under a hail of arrows or an axe splitting her skull (spots danced in his vision for a second when this particular horror floated in his mind); Chrom coming to her rescue  _again_ …

"Now what?" Nowi complained. "It's dull out here! Do we have to stay?"

_Just for once, he would like to be the hero_. There, he thought it. She had paired herself up with Lucina, and while Libra thought the girl very capable, she was most definitely allied with Chrom. Robin needed someone loyal to her, and if it wasn't himself then it could have been Cordelia, or Panne, or even Henry.

"We should, just in case reinforcements come through this area," Nah cautioned. As a group, they turned back to where the forest had been. Aside from a foot-deep carpet of ash and a few jagged tree stumps, the manakete fire had done a marvelous job of extinguishing all cover, life and beauty from the area.

For a solid mile they had turned the lush greenery to badlands. It was a miracle more of the forest had not blazed into oblivion.

"It could happen," Nah muttered defensively, but Cherche was nodding thoughtfully.

"Perhaps if you and Nah keep to the skies on patrol with Cynthia," she suggested. "Vaike can keep to the ground in case you see any more groups." Her gaze barely flickered to Libra. "We can go and see how the other groups are faring, and possibly receive further orders from Robin."

Happily, three out four companions took the suggestion at face value and cheered their approval, while the fourth merely rolled her eyes.

Libra mounted up with perhaps a little more haste than was dignified, and Cherche lightly clicked her tongue. "Let's go find some snacks, Minerva!" The wyvern screeched her hungry approval, and wind screamed in Libra's ears as they blasted up with one tremendous flap of Minerva's wings.

Their battlefield was small – their camp was surprisingly intact despite a noticeable amount of trampling around the edges, and a singed area where the first loaded arrows had fallen. From here Libra could see, with growing unease, the only assault that had yet to be broken was the plains front. Chrom's small group off to the west was just mopping up the last survivors, but Cherche urged Minerva onwards to the frontlines.

"I thought we were inspecting the other positions," Libra commented even as hope stirred in his chest. Cherche coughed delicately.

"They look fine from here," she answered musically. "I think, perhaps, we are needed elsewhere." Cherche was focused on the sky ahead, so Libra allowed himself a wide, relieved grin. They were making excellent time on the back of Minerva, so close to the seething battle Libra could make out individual figures. "Just hold on, I think we – " she never got to finish her sentence.

A wyvern rose almost vertically below Minerva, aiming for the few soft, fleshy parts of her underbelly. The wyvern screamed and panicked, throwing herself sideways to avoid the enemy's talons. Cherche stayed firmly seated, one hand laving the reins to rest against Minerva's steaming neck. A second later, the other hand parted to snatch Libra by the collar, saving him from an untimely fall.

She would have been able to pull him to safety their, back to a secure position on Minerva's back with the dire instruction to  _not let go_ , were it not for the second wyvern rider plunging from the clouds above.

Minerva screamed and reared again, this time to slash threateningly at the rival beast. She was larger than any of the Valmese mounts, but sheer numbers had overwhelmed her before. They were still moving over the main clash of Valm and Ylisse, and Minerva was diving closer and closer to the ground to avoid the persistent beasts.

But each movement jostled Libra further out of Cherche's grip, and though he clawed desperately at Minerva's stony hide, Libra knew his drop was imminent.

It took the appearance of a third rider to finally throw him, and Libra only realized the woman's arrival by six inches of lance sinking into his side.

He had never taken such a bad hit. Slices, gashes and the occasional shallow stab, but Libra truly understood the meaning of cold steel in that moment. It felt like the steel had become the only real part of his quivering guts, and when it withdrew they would cease to hold together. The pain was terrible, whitewashing his brain, but as much as he wanted it to end he was  _terrified_  as to what would happen when the lance slid away.

It was this fear, as much as the sudden bloodloss and sickening boil in his innards, which made his fingers relax. He slid bloodily down Minerva's side, Cherche unable to hold back his slow descent. The lance parted stickily with his side, and that was a whole new level of terror when he felt the blood absolutely pour out of the wound. Cherche did her best – he heard his collar tear away from her clutching fingers, and she almost unseated herself in her haste to reach him.

His hand, by some miracle, grasped Minerva's leg.

"Minerva, catch him!" Cherche screamed, but Minerva was distracted by the sudden appearance of a  _fourth_  wyvern to her right, its rider aiming a throwing axe at Cherche's unguarded head. In the split second Minerva took to snap the weapon out of the sky and draw wicked claws down the wyvern's unprotected belly, Libra was plummeting from his perch.

It was a remarkably peaceful fall. He spun lazily, droplets of his own crimson blood flicking in his vision, and made it to the ground without once being accosted by a reptilian jaw, arrow or bolt of lightning.

This just made the impact all the worse. By the time he had fallen they had only been a bare twenty five feet from the ground, dangerously close to archer fire. The instant he hit the ground his vision burst into fireworks, which fizzled out before the swelling blackness. Adrenaline flooded his body, which was just as well because the pain radiating from his shoulder, his hip, his neck, they all swirled and coalesced and brought such fresh blooms of agony Libra would have been screaming himself raw were it not for his sudden inability to breathe. From his frozen, almost paralyzed position, he could clearly see the fractures in his left arm.

He couldn't defend himself, not in this state. He wasn't even sure he would be able to get up, let alone wield his axe. Libra hoped, prayed to Naga that the soldiers would think him another casualty, but the Valm were depressingly well trained. A set of bloody talons hit the ground just a few feet from his, and Libra felt hot breath pour down his neck. He heard two more sets hit the ground slightly further back, but Libra was more preoccupied with the teeth he imagined just centimeters away.

The wyvern rider said something in her lyric mother tongue, so similar to Cherche and Virion, and Libra realized the woman must hail from Roseanne as well. The words were sad but meant nothing to Libra, and a second later the woman switched to the common tongue. "I will make it quick for you, Ylissean warrior," she said gently, and Libra managed to crane his aching neck to see her face. It was pretty, youthful and not suited for the rigid armour she wore, though the fresh scar running down her cheek did a little to harden her exterior. "You fought bravely; I owe you that."

Her lance dripped steadily with fresh blood – Libra prayed it was only his adorning the weapon.

"What's – " Libra coughed hard, the shifting in his abdomen making him feel faint again. "What is your name, my child?"

"Lillia, priest. It was a grave misfortune which lead you out here - may you find peace with Naga." The wyvern roared, and Libra hoped it would not be Robin who found his body. The lance rotated to point directly between his eyes – she would keep her word.

His death would be virtually painless.

" _Libra_!" Robin was in front of him, over him then, and the whirlwind that usually blossomed from her fingers was a downburst that flung the three Griffon Riders into the air, helplessly caught up in its wicked coils. A great thunderbolt descended from the clouds moments later, disintegrating Lillia, her companions and several of the troops around them. The backlash from it blew the Valmese to the ground, but only lightly ruffled Robin's hair and lifted the hem of her coat.

Her face was a stranger to Libra. He managed to struggle himself into a sitting position.

Robin's attacks had always been brutal. Each mage had their own interpretation and application of spells. Lissa's offensive magic was nothing compared to her healing – the girl just liked to see people well. Ricken's was towering and often struck from above. Henry tended to shred his opponents for maximum mess.

But Robin's magic had never reached such destruction before. The aftermath of the Arcwind sent arrows flying off course and tome pages whisked away to parts unknown. The lightning had scorched the earth down to its flinty bones, and while it had killed only a few besides the Griffon riders it had injured many more.

Robin took advantage of their momentary horror to grimly behead the nearest Valm soldier. She glanced down momentarily at Libra, and the poison in her glare made him sick to his torn stomach.

"You can't fight out here," she said crisply. "Lissa will need to heal you."

"Robin – "

Before he could continue Robin fired a beam of lightning right over his head, close enough that the fabric of his robe sizzled to nothingness, leaving behind a neat hole. It fared better than the mercenary behind him, who was missing the better part of his torso.

"You're off the frontlines," she snapped, striding over to kneel next to him, a wall of pink-rimmed blue fire flaring to life just on the edge of her heels. It wouldn't last long but Libra had seen her use it when she needed to buy time. "Gods, you're bleeding, your torso – " Her palms pressed over his stomach, and they went from her steady commander's hands to digits that shook so badly they tapped erratically against his stomach. Her face was white, so white he thought she would faint, and with a strange mixture of joy and ripping guilt he realized Robin had feared for his life. Well and truly been afraid that fall had been the one to send him on. "I saw you, I thought - Libra, this is awful, I'll fetch Brady he's the only healer I've got out here – "

He caught up her hands with his only working arm, ran his thumb over her knuckles, and gave her a gentle shake, ignoring the jolt of agony that went through his abdomen and shoulder. "I w-will go, you must… _promise_  to - to come back, too."

Robin nodded, a touch of colour returning to her face. "I will." She smiled shakily. "Tharja's nearby. She's got my back."

Libra wanted to remind her that he would gladly stay and have her back even  _more_ , but felt now was not the appropriate time. "I th-think some – some Valmese soldiers are attempting to cr-cross your barrier. You should teach them…" he struggled to finish; her grip on him tightened. "…That's a bad move for future longevity."

"A lesson's a lesson, no matter how long you get afterward to apply it," Robin laughed nastily, her grin illuminated by her sickly fire. It turned her teeth to tombstones and cast deep shadows into the depths of her eye sockets, the brown of her eyes darkened to hellpits pinpricked with glittering fool's gold.

The fire behind her burned brighter, fueled by the blood and fat of a brave Valmese soldier who had attempted to leap across. The fire consumed him like a starved animal.

Tharja materialized by Robin's shoulder, her Nosferatu tome glowing hot in her hands – a deep gash in the dark mage's shoulder was already closing over, and briefly Libra pondered why the far superior priesthood was at a loss to provide a match to the nefarious volume.

"They are calling more of their wyvern reinforcements to this position," she said quietly, expertly popping the cork out of a bottle with a practiced flick of her thumb. "Drink this, Libra, it will do wonders for closing your wounds." It wasn't often Tharja was gentle with him, or even spoke his name – he wondered what they saw that he couldn't see.

Another blasted wyvern landed nearby, but the cry from this one was very familiar. "Minerva is very sorry, Libra," he heard Cherche call timidly. "She said this is why she needs two heads." Minerva whickered. "She saved you some of the other wyvern, but also understands if you are not hungry."

"Cherche, can you take Libra to Lissa?" Robin asked urgently. "And perhaps Lon'qu as well? He caught an Arcfire to the chest and Panne is about to go mad – it's a miracle he survived it." It would reduce her already stretched allies, leaving Robin to bear the brunt of the attacks. The pain in his stomach abated for a stark moment, overpowered by his grief that he could not assist her when she clearly needed it.

Tharja knelt next to him and began carefully feeding him the contents of the bottle – Libra always hated the chalky liquid, but drinking it now suffused him with warmth and whisked the pain away. The ground underneath him was so pillowy his eyelids began to droop.

He floated up a few feet and began to drift over to Minerva like a lazy summer cloud – or perhaps Robin lifted him, he could not tell. He was firmly strapped down to prevent anymore unplanned falls, and a moment later another body settled beside him, carried by a monstrous, long-eared form.

Libra idly watched the clouds as Minerva took flight. They were still so heavy, saturated with firelight – swollen and red, round-bellied ticks feeding off the bloody battlefield. As he watched another spear of lightning tore apart it's tender tissue to strike the ground again, and the shriek that went up chilled even his sluggish blood.

Libra couldn't watch anymore. He tried to tune out the screams, the clashing, the  _smell_ , and focused on a better time.

* * *

_"There's something very charming about watching young children happily frolicking about."_

" _I'm very glad you have come to like it, Robin."_

" _Well, it was that or pitch a fit, which was equally likely." Robin watched the small pack of mainly young girls chatter chase one another about the grass. Robin had thrown open the glass doors that lead out to the back of her property and lit the lanterns, the youths happily spilling outside for a leisurely bask in the setting sun._

_Her property was more than large enough for the aforementioned frolicking - she would have been just as happy with slightly more modest grounds when she was initially househunting, but Panne had asked so frequently about what size the gardens would be Robin had eventually plumped for a more spacious option._

_She was happy she had. She now had six young ones residing under her roof, all there under some pretence – Robin wasn't entirely sure how many apprentices one could have without raising suspicion, but she was reasonably certain it was not more than one or two. So she had suddenly acquired a scullery maid, two additional wards, a gardener and a young boy 'training for the clergy'._

_Some of her fellow Shepherds were in on the joke – Gregor doted on each and every one of them, buying them sweets and teaching them tavern songs; Nowi almost died when she saw how many new playmates she had and Miriel was very pleased to have eager new students to help her with her studies. Even Tharja was intrigued, though she perhaps saw it more as a convenient source of test subjects. Panne would not have a bar of them when she thought anyone was looking, but Robin had seen her up to the elbows in the herb patch with one of the youngest girls, speaking in a soft tone quite unlike her aloof exterior._

_Panne craved a warren, a bustling home filled with like-minded souls, and this was probably as close as she would ever get._

_Panne was now curled up at Robin's side with her head resting in the tactician's lap. Her braids were undone; her thick brown hair spilling over Robin's knees, and every now and then Robin would stroke one of her downy ears to hear happy little squeaks from the sleepy taguel._

" _If she knew how adorable she was, Panne would never sleep again," Libra commented beside her. The rope weave of her oversized hammock meant that no matter how far they sat apart they inevitably were drawn together in the middle – not that either of them tried very hard to stay apart. The hammock was a private place, tucked up the back of her garden where the trees grew a little wild and the grass was longer, a little rabbit-nibbled and home to thousands of rustling insects_

_Olivia called the place a faerie haunt – just close enough back to nature to attract all kinds of sprites and pixies. Robin, who had grown up with a less than stellar opinion of the fair folk compared to Olivia, had salted her doorways and kept iron in every room just in case it was true._

_But it magical in a different way – up here was so detached from their usual lives, even though Robin's house was a mere thirty feet away. Here, they paid no mind to Libra's arm comfortably wrapped around Robin's shoulders, or her lightly curled hand resting casually on his thigh._

_Even Panne felt the importance of this place. Nowhere else would she allow herself to fall asleep with her companions, have her hair unwoven or touched in any way. Some days it was just Robin and Panne, and the woman would comb out Robin's hair and affectionately lick her cheeks._

_It was rare the three of them were together._

_Robin believed in perfect moments. The moment of a well executed battle maneuver, a delicious cake or a slapstick routine from Stahl or Vaike._

_With Libra at her side, Panne in her lap, a plan formed for the future, a flock of people finding hope in her home…a flask of honey wine…a few early fireflies fluttering in the last remnants of the sunset as her lanterns flickered…_

_It was, Robin thought as she observed Libra from the corner of her eye, an almost perfect moment._

" _You received another house guest yesterday," Libra commented. He phrased it like an inquiry, but there was no need. He was the one who brought the boy to her._

" _Asra does seems to be fitting in well," Robin said. "Poor boy. Doesn't speak a word of the common tongue. Karin's been making great progress with him already."_

_The girl in question began to round up the others – it had been two weeks since the confrontation with her father and the girl had blossomed remarkably. She had been taken out of school previously, so her reading and writing was inadequate to immediately start her apprentice duties, but Robin only need to go over the basics with her for Karin to take off like a wyvern. She was not perfect by far, but her diligence so far had earned her Robin's approval._

_Karin was a bright girl, and was quickly stepping into a role Robin was quite happy to let her define. All she had needed was an opportunity; the idea that she may have been left to languish, uneducated and unheeded, was enough to make Robin grind her teeth. She was a small miracle, they all were – every wretched urchin and common little dairymaid, they all had vitality to them that Robin guiltily realized she had stopped attributing to citizens. It was all too easy to slip into a martial mindset and think of them as cargo to be guarded or cattle to be driven. It did them a disservice Robin vowed not to commit again._

" _She's a natural organizer," Robin remarked, watching Karin hassle a younger girl back inside to wash up. "Very good with these youngsters. I'm thinking she may be well suited as a schoolmistress or a governess."_

" _Turning her into a project?"_

" _Certainly not." Robin smiled. "But…I have a plan in mind. You speak often of the children left to the streets, or forced out of their homes. You know a lot about the men and women who are forgotten. It's maybe inspired me a little, but…Libra?"_

" _Yes, Robin?"_

" _How did you convince me to turn my cottage into a halfway house?"_

" _Because you are a truly tender soul who desires nothing more than to erase suffering from this world," Libra answered. A moment of silence fell. "Also, I gave you a strawberry princess cake and herded them in while you were distracted."_

_Robin giggled. "You devious man. Never change."_ _**Never leave** _ _. Libra smiled and traced tiny, electric circles on her shoulder with his calloused thumb._

* * *

When he next awoke, it was to an aching but happily intact body. From what he understood, Lissa had drained half a stave to heal both him and Lon'qu, who was still sleeping heavily with Yarne hovering protectively over his body. His chest was bandaged and his breath bubbling sickly, but he was just as alive as Libra. The first thing he did was a quick count of his limbs – all intact – and his wounds – numerous. His left arm was set in a small cast, already inked with a few signatures, and his torso was stiff with bandages. All in all, he had come out very lucky from a fall that had his body resembling a bag of broken china.

The second thing he did was put on what remained of his robe and stalk out of the tent. It took Cordelia, Inigo and Kellam to drag him back in to be inspected by Lissa again, who threatened to hit him with her stave if he kept protesting that he was  _fine_.

"You came too close to being disemboweled," she explained patiently while pressing a poultice to the neat line of stitches curving around his waist. "That's the only way to put it. I can't even totally heal some of those other wounds; your body couldn't take it. Some things need to heal naturally, which won't happen if you don't lie still for a second! I'll let you go in a minute; we do need the beds and someone needs to find Robin but – hold still!"

"Where is Robin?" he asked a tad urgently, and the gathered Shepherds exchanged glances.

"She came in to see you once she – once the Valmese – after it finished," Lissa said awkwardly. "Stayed for about six hours, just getting underfoot and having her paperwork brought in. She said she'd be back in a minute, but that was half an hour ago…"

"I'll go find her."

"I don't think – "

" _Don't try and make me stay."_

Five minutes later Lissa gave him an adequate bill of health, and warned him not to lift, run, jog, jump, stretch, cartwheel and ingest dairy for another three days. Libra nodded, stifling the urge to remind her that yes, he was a healer too, and began to make his way back through the encampment.

There wasn't much of a camp left to wind through. Many of the tents had been pulled down and brought closer to the main areas, where they could be tightly defended. The effect was a tight huddle of sooty peaks, reflecting the campfire and lanterns.

A good handful of the Shepherds and standard soldiers sustained only minor injuries, and they hailed Libra as he passed without breaking their diligent watch. Even Kjelle, half her face swollen and bruised, gave him a steely smile.

Now that the perimeter had been tightened, Libra reached the outskirts of their camp in short order – the destruction almost made him faint. It was almost exactly as he had envisioned in his nightmares, a decimated landscape still strewn with the fallen. The only thing missing was a fell dragon winging lazily over the landscape.

The land was curiously flat and empty – even the grass had withered away to nothing. It was easy to spy Robin – she stood about fifty feet away, illuminated by a single lantern, its stained glass tingeing the dusty air in shades of apricot.

As he drew closer, his stride increasing with even becoming aware of it, Libra realized where Robin stood. It was where he had stood many a night, in quiet conversation or contemplative silence with the woman.

Libra had found Robin standing in the cold ruin of her tent.

The treated fabric had not truly burned, but the heat had been intense enough to shrivel and melt it, draping across the charred remains of her cot and desk like the discarded skin of some evil serpent. Strangely, a few of the poles still haphazardly stood in violated charade of their original form, the tent clinging to them by a few desperate threads. A sick miracle.

"Robin?" She didn't respond. He moved closer. "Robin, dear one…" Now she looked up, her eyes quite dry and face dead calm.

"Oh, Libra." She didn't move towards him, blinking as languid as a dray horse. "You are looking much better." Her eyes drifted back to her destroyed belongings. "I didn't even think about this at the time…" Libra followed her gaze as it ran over the scene, wanting desperately to understand what she was feeling, thinking. She spoke, after a while. "The teabox is…it exploded. I was looking forward to the tea…Lissa gave me a hairpin which – which belonged to Emmeryn. Told me I was as good as a sister so I should have it."

He voice creaked, just a little, and Libra took an involuntary step forward. Still, she continued. "Jade and white gold. Fire warped it - that damn oil." Her foot stirred the ash piled by her desk. "All my books…some of those volumes were quite rare, a few irreplaceable. I'll  _never_  see their like again."

Robin was thinking of the soldiers who died tonight. She always did; same as Libra. They had lost seven of their footsoldiers. None of the Shepherds had perished, though it had been a close shave. That was a miracle, though Libra preferred to think of it as an unconscious collaboration between Naga and Robin.

All in all the estimated Valmese fatalities stood at two hundred and thirty soldiers.

Two hundred and thirty men and women who probably didn't even want to be there, who just hoped to survive the war with a little gold to set up their families and send their children to school. Or maybe they joined to protect their loved ones, and marched in the unshakeable knowledge that what they did was truly right.

What had that girl – Lillia - been feeling? Her conviction had been strong, but she did not look at him like an enemy.

"There were others," Robin continued, unaware of Libra's thoughts. "Other things I loved. I pressed a flower necklace Sumia made for me; Brady once wrote me a letter thanking me for my work, the ink was all runny and blotchy, he probably sobbed his eyes out over it…" She tried to lighten the mood, tried to make it funny. But the melancholy was a shroud over her words. "I kept that so safe, but not…safe enough. Nothing was safe."

She sighed, her breath stirring motes of dust dancing in the lamplight. "That picture you drew and gave to me…I didn't put it away before they attacked. It was on my bed, on my pillow." Libra cast his eyes to the cot. It was a grotesque pile of fiber and blackened wood. "And the blanket…Do you know Lon'qu made me that? When we visited Ferox to wipe out a huge contingent of Risen. It was the middle of winter and I didn't have adequate bedding, so he went out and bought the wool and fabric and – and I suppose he gritted his teeth and asked Cherche how to sew, but he made me that blanket and it was perfect. It was warm and he'd taken the time to make it  _just_  for me."

Libra was at her side then, his arms sliding around her to hold her close. She didn't cry, or whimper or sob or wail. She just shook like a baby deer. "I shall draw you another," Libra offered, though within him it was already a commandment set in stone. He would draw her a thousand pictures, anything she requested, only if she requested if it meant she could gather herself again. He would give her something _just_  for her. "What would you like?"

"I thought you didn't do requests?" she asked, though hope tinged the monotone.

"It would be a delight to make an exception for you, Robin," he replied, and the hope spread to her eyes.

"Thank you!" she pulled away then, though Libra hoped he did not imagine that shade of reluctance. "What will it be?" Just a flutter of the old Robin now. Looking around her tent not with the total despair of someone who had lost everything and hadn't the faintest clue how to rebuild, but with the anticipation of new life.

"I will draw you whatever you would like." Libra thought his heart stopped when Robin whirled around and gave him her cheekiest grin.

"How about a portrait of you?" she suggested. "I'd like that."

"You want to look at a picture of me before you fall asleep at night?" Libra asked, and if he thought he was near death before, it was nothing compared to how he felt when Robin gave him a tender smile he had never truly seen before.

"Not a problem for me. Though people might want to know why such a pretty girl would grace my walls."

"That is a problem with my self-portraits," Libra agreed, a little wilted now by her apparent flippancy.

"Hmmmm…" Robin twirled lightly on the spot, her coat flaring out around her and sending up a fresh wave of ash to the light. The motes twinkled and flashed, short-lived sparks in worship of Robin. "How about a painting of me, then? I'd like to remind myself in years to come that I was once youthfully beautiful."

"You are old," Libra concurred solemnly. Robin gave an exaggerated huff and wiggled her fingers at him threateningly.

"I am most likely probably around about the same age as you, give or take ten years," Robin bantered. "Though I confess, I forget your true age. Was it forty or fifty – Ah!" She covered her mouth in mock dismay. "Beg your pardon, Libra, I did quite forget a true  _lady_  never reveals her age."

"No surprise you're still talking about it, then," Libra responded, and Robin's laughter conceded her defeat.

The sound was music, pure notes that filled the air and for Libra it felt like the world had been twisted and out of place until that moment. Something had clicked back into place – the first domino - the one that had trembled so mightily when he first saw Robin as a harbinger of destruction on the battlefield - had stilled.

"Well, I still think it would be nice to see what you can do with my face," Robin decided.

Libra bowed slightly, his hair concealing his relief. "A heroic task, but one I accept."

"That's –  _hey_! You're so  _sassy_! Why are you so sassy and still a priest? You are the sassiest priest who ever sassed!"


	9. It Ends With Words

"You should talk to him, Robin."

"Huh? Ouch!"

"Robin!"

The tactician slumped down to the ground, touching the rapidly swelling lump on her head with a barely suppressed wince. Cordelia's face swam out of the bright stars in her vision, worried and half-amused.

"What happened? You didn't even move!" Her friend knelt next to her, carefully parting white locks to examine the wound.

"Yeah, you cracked me a solid one," Robin admitted, biting down hard on the inside of her cheek when Cordelia pressed slightly too hard.

"Do you need me to get Lissa?" Cordelia asked, cupping her face and staring intently at her pupils. "I don't want to be the one who killed our tactician. I'll leave that who someone who legitimately dislikes you."

"Thanks, friend."

"I'm here for you!" Cordelia's cheeky grin gradually faded. "I mean it. Talk to Libra. It'll do you some good."

"I talk to Libra every day," Robin answered airily, and sternly told the blush creeping up her neck to go away. It ignored her, as involuntary body functions are wont to do, and marched across her cheeks to set them alight.

She knew Cordelia noted the blush, and Robin silently dared her to comment. "The skirmish with the Valmese took it right out of everyone's heads," Cordelia began, and blanched when Robin's stare became a whole lot harder. "You know, the…thing, about your…other person."

"Oh yes, what with one thing or another, I'd plum forgotten the lost faith of some of my closest allies," Robin growled, rubbing the bump a little harder than needed. Her ire drained away a little when Cordelia pulled back guiltily. "Sorry. I didn't mean you – "

"Well, it was a little me," Cordelia interrupted, a strained smile fighting to stay on her face. "I'm sorry, I just…that stuff is important to me. So are you. But I kinda forgot the order for a while."

It stung, just a little, to know one of her closest confidants had withdrawn from her for, from Robin's point of view, such a petty reason. But even if she could fault Cordelia on that, she couldn't fault her for sticking to her values.

Or for reaching out, apologizing. Something Robin was not prepared to do.

"I think I can find it in my heart to forgive you," Robin mumbled, and Cordelia's surprised huff of laughter made her turn her head sharply.

"Sorry, it's just…Libra said that to me the other day," Cordelia mused. "Though from you it sounds like a threat."

"I am not threatening, I am a beautiful, forgiving, gentle dove," Robin answered haughtily, which only caused Cordelia to laugh again.

"I don't think you even know what a dove is," Cordelia teased, earning her a half-hearted swipe from the tactician.

"Why do you think I should speak to - " Robin began to say, but Cordelia was staring slightly over the top of her head, her eyes wide and flickering. " – Cordy?" Her ruby eyes snapped back to Robin's, and Robin almost toppled over as Cordelia's palm near slapped to her forehead, narrowly missing the swelling lump.

"You still look a little dizzy! Maybe I should go and get Lissa anyway!" Cordelia scrambled to her feet and took off across the small training yard with indecent haste, her long hair disappearing between the tents like a lick of flame before Robin could even open her mouth.

The tactician snapped her jaw shut, her mouth bending into a petulant frown. The blow she could forgive, it was certainly her own lack of focus, but hightailing it away just as they were having their first proper conversation in two weeks? The part of Robin which would always be an elitist god of destruction rankled at the slight.

The reason for her swift departure was made apparently a few seconds later, when she felt the blunted end of a healing stave touch her wound with the gentlest of caresses, and the healing magic that poured forth was all at once soothing and remarkably familiar.

"Your timing is ever impeccable, Libra." His warm chuckle followed her comment, and she felt warmth of a different kind alleviate her jilted feelings.

"How did you know it was me?" he asked curiously, still remaining behind her shoulder and out of sight. "Did my footfall give me away? Perhaps my cologne?"

"Oh my, you genuinely need to shave?" He rewarded that bit of wit with a firm nudge to her shoulder that almost sent her sprawling. "I imagined that facial hair would be so intimidated by your masculinity that stubble wouldn't dare take root?" It was blatant pandering; she knew he lapped up every last drop.

"Your penance is accepted," he conceded, and she was glad he couldn't see the grin that spread across her face. "Truly, though. What was it?"

Robin supposed she could reveal one of her secrets. "Your magicfeel."

Silence. Then –

"My what?"

"Your magicfeel. You have a distinct imprint whenever you use healing magic. Everyone does." Robin's hands began to make lazy circles as she lost herself in the explanation, the opportunity to impart knowledge. To show off, she suspected. "It's like, how you know the touch of someone's hand, or how you can instantly identify someone by their voice. All mages have it, but I notice is most with healers. Probably because every other mage uses their magic to try and fry me."

Libra sat next to her then, his hair loosely tied back from his face in the simple, long ponytail she quietly adored. It left only a few pale gold strands to frame his face, and put his eyes and fine cheekbones into sharp contrast to how he normally cloaked himself.

Robin realized she had stopped speaking, and was now staring, and she hurried to grasp the thread of her thoughts. "Yes. It's not always…really definable in any normal sense. When Lissa heals it's like – like floating down a stream in the height of summer, with a meringue lamb nuzzling into the palm of my hand and a folk song on my mind. All that pours into the wound and makes the fixing even better."

"That's as close an approximation we'll ever get, however ridiculous it sounds," Libra said, and looked at her wonderingly. "It…I know what you mean, actually."

Robin realized the dangerous path she had set down a little too late, and waited with baited breath for the question she knew was coming.

"In that case," Libra finally began, and did she imagine a tremor in his voice? "What does my – "

"I'lltellyoulater." The words rushed out of Robin's mouth before she could clamp her teeth together, and she scrambled to her feet, pulling him up with her. "I think Cordelia will be back soon. You know, it's the first time I've been able to spar for a while, and I've been doing terribly today. My sword may as well be strapped to a chicken for all the good I'm doing with it."

Libra grasped his side and stifled a wince – he was healing the slowest, possibly because he had started a one man crusade to stop Cordelia from shouldering the brunt of their chores. They often spent hours sharing the burdens of the camp, alone together, under the sun or in low candlelight, nothing to distract them but each –

Robin snatched up his stave from where he had left it, snared in the grass, and tried to smother the acid jealousy bubbling in her stomach. She was a grown woman, but her jaw still tightened at the thought of her two greatest companions off doing something together, without her.

Stave still grasped in hand, Robin went and snatched up her iron practice sword, slightly dusty now from its hard landing in the dirt. Feeling the fine pommel once again fit into her hand gave back a modicum of control, and she faced Libra with her low emotions firmly in check. "You should head back, Libra, but thank you for healing that bump."

Libra shrugged – he looked slightly less at ease now, and kept shifting from one foot to the other. His mouth opened, and closed. His arm shifted from his ribs to grasp his opposite elbow, and his gaze dropped to silently the study the trampled earth.

"Are you feeling alright?" Robin prompted, taking a few steps closer to him.

"Yes, yes, I'm just still a little tender," he said a little too quickly. Robin's eyes strayed to his torso. She was no healer, but Libra's injuries had been too severe to have sealed almost completely over the week.

"Would you like to spar?" Libra offered suddenly, and Robin's eyes narrowed. Libra crossed the yard at a brisk yet tender pace, and selected his own favourite axe. "I'll be a little slow, but it has been too long since I last practiced." He liked to wake before sunrise every day to run through his forms. She knew this, because when he had been in the guest room that had become  _his_  room, Robin would wake upon hearing his feet touch the floor. She would lie perfectly still under the covers, listening to him quietly ready himself and slip out the back door.

She had once watched him, just two weeks before she had been summoned to the palace and been unpleasantly greeted by the sight of a sweet newborn and the news of a conqueror sweeping across the seas.

Libra stood in front of her now, his posture defensive and cautious. He had elected to wear his full monk's regalia today, and it was clearly weighing him down. Robin's eyes flickered over him, assessing the tells in his body and methodically comparing them to what she had come to know about his fighting prowess. Libra was favouring his left side; a slight tremor in his leg betrayed the still healing ankle; the axe hung from one hand, his other arm bandaged up to the elbow and bruised up to his shoulder; his breathing was calm but shallow, meaning -

Her sword spiralled almost lazily, swooshing past his chest like the arc of a comet. "Are you sure you should be out here with your stitches still in?" In a great show of willpower, she fought back a smirk when Libra visibly cringed.

"I don't intend to allow minor injuries dissuade me from assisting the camp, Robin," he answered a trifle stiffly. "Or from continuing my training."

"Oh. Bad Shepherd. Typical healers – excellent at caring for everyone but themselves." His axe whirred up into his hands then, his face crumpling into a wince at the sudden movement, and Robin raised her eyebrows at him. "Your determination is admirable, but I – ah!" Despite the weight of his axe, Libra had a surprisingly turn of speed when he put his mind to it, and Robin was only just able to get her feet into gear when he almost seemed to blur forward. He was within striking range in seconds, and if she had been armed with anything less than her sword he would have landed his hit.

She caught his axe a glancing block, but it was enough to send him staggering back a step. That was all Robin needed. She light bound backwards on the tips of her toes, assuming a defensive stance while Libra recovered his balance.

The blow could have killed her. She didn't think Libra would, and if she had to be struck by anyone a competent healer was a good option, but the injury could have been potentially fatal. Libra would only ever spar with one other person like that, and Lon'qu was nimble enough to avoid most his strikes anyway.

"I ask that – you don't go – easy on me," Libra gasped out, his face slightly grey. Robin has to stop herself from sheathing her sword then and there, and helping him back to her tent.  _His_  tent, she mentally corrected. She kept her distance – Libra tended to be a little touchy about his male pride, and would only accept returning to camp once a victor had been decided.

"I have no intention of that," she responded, and surged forward.

It could hardly be called a fair fight – she was in fine form, had the benefit of a warm up and several days of solid food and exercise. Libra's pallor only worsened, and every shuddering blow he barely blocked punched a rasp from his lungs. Robin kept it up as long as she dared, and even then it was difficult – each stagger and tortured breath made her want to rush forward and drag him off to every healer in the camp.

At last, after what was probably only five minutes of combat but felt like weeks, she deemed it long enough. He couldn't even bring the axe up to sufficiently block her blow – she had a clean opportunity to drive the point of her sword right through his navel.

Robin arrested the strike just as it flickered under his defences, and sharply rapped the flat of her blade against his knuckles. The axe fell from weakened fingers.

Libra fell forward.

If she had been questioned later by any well-hidden observers (of which there was a surprising amount) Robin would be forced to admit that she didn't quite remember the next few seconds. She vaguely recalled throwing down her sword, remembered her boots slipping in the dirt and her whole world slowing down around her as Libra's knees buckled. She remembered the sweat beading his forehead, his eyes rolling back and making no move to catch himself.

And if pressed, she wouldn't know how she fought her way through the suddenly treacle thick air to catch him just before his knees slammed into the dirt, taking his full weight against her torso and bracing against his momentum. Her heels slid back slightly, and a grunt escaped from her mouth, but the next thing she truly recalled was sinking to the ground with him firmly held in her arms.

"You fainting damsel," she muttered, partially to test if he was conscious. His hand instantly slapped her side, and she chortled smugly. "Yeah, you heard me." He _heard_ her.

And after that, the thing she recollected was a sense of utter relief and fulfilment at having him resting against her, closer and more intimate than they had ever been back in Ylisstol. His head slumped into the crooking of her shoulder and neck, and by the gods his breath tickled her skin. Her arms automatically adjusted to hold Libra's weight better, and it so happened to mean drawing him a little closer. Her eyes partially drifted shut, and for one sneaky moment, she inhaled his scent and buried her face into his loose hair.

They stayed there for several minutes, Libra partially cradled in her lap, her hand brushing his cheek and his breathing gradually steadying. The sounds of the camp seemed far away and drowned out by the persistent hammering of her heart. She became aware of his hand grasping her around the wrist, and of his thumb tracing circles on her palm; Libra's other arm was loosely gathered about her waist - his head had slid down so his breath puffed against her exposed collarbone. He was close enough that his lips periodically grazed her flesh – each time little tingles sang out across her nerves, fraying her already tested resolve.

It was when he finally began to the stir that she couldn't take it anymore. Libra tried to pull himself up, and in the process dragged his torso a few inches over hers. His lips grazed up her neck, and the epiphany that struck her was that he was doing this on  _purpose_.

Robin had them on their feet in one swift movement, and she didn't hide her pleased smile as Libra clung to her until he regained his balance. "I should take you to your tent, you need some recovery time," she said sincerely, already half dragging him to where she knew he had pitched his new quarters.

"Yes…I have something I need to give you," Libra murmured.

The stave and sword were still lying in the dirt when Cordelia eventually risked a return.

* * *

"You're very light, Libra," Robin almost scolded as she deposited Libra onto his cot. A soft groan of relief puffed from him, and Robin tilted her head so her hair fell across her face, aware she had involuntarily started worrying at her lip.

"Lissa had me on a liquid diet until this morning," he breathed, the colour slowly beginning to return to his face. "Broth and weak tea. It was awful. I felt like an old, toothless lady."

"Oh, Libra," Robin said soothingly, coming over to seat herself precariously on the edge of his bed. "You're not toothless. You have the finest set of teeth in all the land."

His glare was victory enough, but it was soon replace by a hot, hard flash of pain. He scrabbled at his side, encased as it was by his thick coat and Robin hurried to help him. He stilled as she patiently unhooked, unbuttoned and untied, until she was able to drag off the heavy cloth around his shoulders, the coat and the belt until the only thing covering his torso was a thin, black fabric. It covered his neck and joined seamlessly with a pair of black gloves of the same material, but it hugged his form in a way that made Robin swallowed almost audibly.

She pressed all that firmly back, focusing instead on his aching side. "Do you feel any bleeding, any tearing?" she asked softly, her fingers hovering bare centimeters from his side. Libra shook his head, taking in tiny, controlled breaths.

"No, it's just pain," Libra whispered, his hand moving to hold his stomach. "My stitches are fine, before you ask. It's just…" he struggled to speak again, and Robin inched closer out of sympathy, her heart crying to alleviate his suffering even the smallest amount. "I have trouble breathing, sometimes, the muscles are still trying to work out where they need to go." He smiled weakly.

"You poor dear," Robin breathed, resting her hand on his side as though his body would defer to her touch. "I wish I were a healer."

"You have your ways." Robin looked up sharply, thinking for a moment he was mocking her, but he was simply watching with his small, fragile smile that she had only seen once or twice. It was different from his saintly smile, from his pert grins and sardonic smirks. It was something Robin jealously hoped was only for herself.

"You look sad, still." Libra touched her cheek. "I haven't seen you this sad since we first met."

"You frightened me," Robin admitted. "When you fell. I saw you fall and I couldn't move. A hundred spells came to mind and I couldn't say any of them. I thought you were gone and - "  ** _and I'd have to sink the continent so the world remembered your name, and mourned your loss_  **" – and I'd be left here without you."

"I am sorry I caused you pain, Robin," Libra began, and only grunted when he received the reproving swat he'd expected. Robin always showed her displeasure when he placed the blame on himself, and he'd come to almost look forward to this display of protection.

They were silent for a while, Robin lost in her own thoughts until an almost unheard question from Libra brought her back. "Do you remember when we first met?"

"Oh…sort of. It was at the castle, in Plegia."

"Ah, I mean…the proper one. After that."

* * *

_This place was serene, green and utterly free of people. Libra had found it quite by accident, during a hunt when he was tracking down a particularly devious buck. It had been too late by that time to investigated, but it had been well worth coming back the next morning._

_Their wait for reinforcements had stretched on for a week longer than necessary, and Libra had been coming here for over half that time. He generally made his excuses in camp, feeling slightly guilty he was not going to pray as he so earnestly told his fellow Shepherds, and slipped away before any could even offer to accompany him._

_It was also the first day he had thought to bring along his sketching pads and supplies, which were admittedly running a little sparse. He was down to the last sliver of charcoal, three pencils and most of his watercolours were only thin patinas coating the bottom of their containers._

_Still, he had enough for this work, and it was a particular scene he wanted to capture. The main part of the clearing was on his side of the river, though there was a small bank on the opposite end which was just as free of long willow fronds._

_The trees in question clustered thickly around the edge of the clearing, the willow whips dipping gracefully into the water, pulled at by the current and the occasional chunk of ice until they spread out like long, leafy fingers atop the surface. Closer to the Feroxi border the runoff from their mountains often brought frost, but it was still far enough into Ylissean territory that the flora flourished._

_It was also far away enough that the snowstorms melted into rainstorms of epic proportions, though the sky today was blissfully blue and free of clouds._

_The grass was slightly rabbit nibbled, and he caught sight of a flashing bobtail every now and again. The wildlife here seemed to be unwary of humans, if the host of ducklings who had toddled across his abdomen yesterday were anything to go by. They had spent a good five minutes inspecting every item Libra had brought, including Libra himself, and Libra had simply tried not to do anything so frightening as breathing._

_After a few inquiring nibbles at his hair, and hopeful pecks at the wax paper which contained his lunch, they had waddled off to the water and joined their indifferent mother._

_It was this moment that had finally cemented the idea to bring his paints. The memory of their little peeps and clumsy footsteps still made him smile unwittingly._

_A monstrous crash from his left broke his peaceful silence and, startled, he reached for his axe, his final piece of charcoal falling from his fingers to become lost amongst the young, crisp grass. He didn't have time to do more than that – a woman burst out from the foliage, her pace hard and desperate. She didn't even slow down when she reached the edge of the brook, and a spray of icy droplets went up as she plunged in without hesitation. She staggered to the middle of the stream, the water up to her waist by now, before Libra realized he was looking at the tactician of the army._

_The wildlife was silent. Her harsh, bubbly breath held an almost angry quality._

_Robin stood stock still, the current gently tugging at her clothes like a hopeful child. Head bent, shoulders curled and arms hanging limply by her side, Libra wondered with some alarm if she hadn't take ill in some way._

_A shaking, clenched fist rose to her face and even at this distance he saw her bite down hard on her knuckle._

_The first sob drifted across the cheery babbling water, so soft and out of place Libra wondered if he hadn't imagined it. A second and a forth followed, each one as strangled and cut-off as the last. Robin was clearly struggling to keep them bottled within her chest, a battle she was rapidly losing. His senses taut, Libra leaned forward when tiny, glittering droplets fell from behind the curtain of hair that concealed her face. The hit the water silently, carried away and dispersed instantly by the spring runoff._

_Paralyzed by indecision, all Libra could do was watch the woman, Robin, as she doubled over and began to weep in earnest, making her shoulders heave with the effort of being expelled from her body. One arm curled around her waist, but the other remained at her mouth, futilely muffling her cries. She was afraid of being discovered, Libra realized, and a flash of guilt shot through him at his unintended intrusion on what she no doubt thought was a private moment._

_Libra's first instinct was the hurry forward and comfort the woman, even from a distance. No, a lie. His true first instinct was to quietly pack up his papers and charcoal and slip away. From the little he'd seen of her in camp she had always been perfectly composed, her compassion tempered by her honesty as she sought to hold the Shepherds together after the fall of Emmeryn._

_Tensions had run high in the camp, and it had resulted in a few people getting into scuffles that had nothing to do with a spilled drink or unpacked weapons, and everything to do with their recently departed Exalt. Libra had also taken on his own share of Shepherds seeking guidance, seeking an answer as to why a woman as undeserving of death as Emmeryn had been forced to end her life in such a fashion._

_They sought reasons for the indignity, and Libra helped as best he could, even as a dark, bitter place in his heart lamented the same question._

_Robin had taken on the less spiritual aspect, taking each person in turn into her tent, serving them tea and getting them to talk. Not always about Emmeryn, but what they wanted to do after the war, what they liked to do on their down time, if they had practiced long with their weapon of choice. Tiny little conversations which eventually coaxed them open and, inevitably, had them weeping into a fresh handkerchief Robin kindly supplied._

_But here she was now, the tranquil tactician soaking wet and trying frantically to stem her own tears. She finally seemed to be winning, the sobs trailing off into raspy hiccoughs. Finally, even they fell away, and she began to slowly dip her hands into the water, rubbing them clean before splashing her face._

_He was staring, Libra realized, and he lay back as quickly and quietly as he could, determined that she would not form her first impression of him mistakenly as a peeping tom. He rearranged the items around him to give them a lackadaisical look, as if he had suddenly dozed off under the afternoon sun._

_He concentrated on breathing evenly for a minute, and then yawned terrifically. Loud enough to be clearly heard by Robin, and his efforts were rewarded. The splashing abruptly stopped, and he suddenly felt the immense pressure of her scrutiny even this far from the water._

_Libra was very glad he had elected to go a more subtle route._

_He heard her move again after a few moments, and waited until the clumsy swishing had turned into muddy squelches as his cue to sit up slowly, rubbing his eyes as he emerged from his false nap._

" _Good afternoon to you, Robin," he greeted her politely, and the smile she sent his way was as confident and caring as any he had seen before._

" _Ah, Libra, what are you drawing?" she asked, surreptitiously wiping her eyes one last time. Her voice was soft but steady, and he marveled at her quickly regained composure. She came over and knelt at a respectful distance from him, too far away for any accidental touches._

_Libra felt a modicum of embarrassment at her distance, but was still glad for it. She may be a companion but he had no desire to touch her. He frankly wouldn't know what to do if a lady laid hands on him, anyway._

" _I am drawing a picture," he responded, feeling a little silly for stating the obvious._

_Her eyes were firmly locked on the paper across his lap, so she missed the tinge of pink rise into his ears. One long, pale finger extended to pin down the edge of the drawing, and Libra was pleasantly gratified by the gasp which followed._

" _Oh! Libra, this is very good!" She leaned a little closer, loose locks of her hair tumbling over her shoulders from her movement. A sweet breeze ruffled through the clearing, wrapping Libra in a mixture of scents. Fresh water, moist mud, wet feathers and wildflowers. Intermingled with a foreign, earthy scent he would later always come to associate with Robin._

" _I do love this," she continued, a note of sheer delight entering her voice. "Oh, you have a wonderful eye for shading and detail." Her hand hovered over the picture, not quite touching the still grainy charcoal. "You did pick a fine spot to draw, the picture is perfect. And it still has that touch of melancholy…" she looked amused. "That's very like you."_

" _Melancholy?" Libra could hardly believe his ears. He had always endeavoured to fill his time with his new companions with as much grace and optimism as he could manage, even going overboard in many cases. He knew he had earned a reputation for being a bit prayer-mad, but all in all he thought he'd –_

_He thought he had fooled them quite thoroughly._

_And he hadn't even truly spoken to Robin! They had been formally introduced but with Emmeryn's death still fresh in their mind Libra had guiltily shied away from anything, well, Plegian._

_And here was the Plegian now, waving her hands placatingly and laughing. "I didn't mean it in a bad way! It just has a lot of depth, a lot of light and dark, like you!" This time she shrugged, two high spots of red appearing on her cheeks. "Pah, you shouldn't take heed of me, Libra. I don't know anything about fine art and I think I'm making that embarrassingly clear."_

_Despite her shocking words, her candour touched him, and Libra found himself smiling back. A real smile, to his surprise._

_"Well, if we're putting our cards on the table, neither do I," he responded._

" _Really?" Robin leaned over again to inspect, and it may have been his imagination but the urge to recoil from human contact was a little less urgent now. "But look at this, you have such a gift! If you had told me you had studied at some fine school I would have believed you in a heartbeat."_

_Libra shrugged, feeling slightly tongue-tied now. "I have been told that my painting are technically proficient." He glanced down at the picture again. "But they…lack soul." Artistic soul was what he had been told, but he knew what they meant. That was the fear that griped him late at night – that the trauma wreaked on his young soul had damaged it irreparably, and it would one day spill out for the world to see._

_But Robin was shaking her head, sending a cloud of white hair fluttering about like cotton in the breeze. "Ridiculous. This is bursting with soul, Libra, it is so beautiful and complex, even with that touch of sadness." She once again smiled at him, and this time it was a real one from her as well. "I can tell it is very much like yourself. You give a purity and honesty to this." She huffed. "Whoever told you that was no doubt jealous of your talent and hardwork."_

_Libra swallowed, trying and failing three times to find eloquent words. His artistry had always been enjoyable, but after the measured blow to his confidence he had never been quite as open to sharing the results with any others._

_With sudden clarity, he had no doubt that if Robin ever came face to face with this detractor it would be a battle worth watching. She was looking at him now with the same firm expression she gave to her Shepherds when they came to her with a problem. It was in sharp contrast to Chrom, who saw the rest of his fellow Shepherds as also part of his flock, there to be tended and cared for._

_Robin would be closer to the sheepdog who kept them all in line, who tirelessly guided them down the right path and was an undeniable force of authority._

_And she would fight wolves for them, if it meant protecting her flock and Shepherd. A woman worthy of following._

" _I appreciate the sentiment," he finally said when he realized he had been quiet a bit too long. In a move that surprised him most of all, Libra thrust the picture out to Robin. "You can have this one, if you like."_

_He saw her eyes go greedily to the piece, and a flicker of pride went through him. Robin really liked it. "Are you sure?" she asked, though her fingers were already edging towards it. "This isn't specially drawn for anyone?" He was curiously disappointed by her next question. "It wasn't drawn on commission, I mean?" He had thought for a brief moment she was asking -_

" _I don't do drawings or paintings on request," he said, a little shortly. "No exceptions are ever made."_

" _Oh." Her fingers closed around it, and she pulled it from his grasp. She gazed at it adoringly once more, and then began to very carefully roll it up. "Well, if it's not meant for anyone else, I will glad accept it. It would be an honour."_

_Robin met his eyes again, and a warm feeling trailed down his spine to settle into Libra's stomach. "Thank you." She finished packing away the drawing, coming to seat herself once again beside him. She was still a good few inches away, but he could feel her heat and something deep in his skin could sense her presence._

_Perhaps it was because he hadn't touched anyone in years, but her presence weighed on him pleasantly, like a heavy fur blanket on a wintry night. Each tiny movement sang across his nerves, now silk slithering down his arms, and he privately wondered if he had accidentally ingested something psychotropic._

" _Libra…" the sound of his name from her lips startled him._

_He felt her hesitate at his side, and when he turned his head to meet her gaze what he found was…nothing what he had expected. He had expected to see some pleading, maybe some wariness, but all that lurked in her brown eyes was curiousity._

_Libra was struck, then, by how humanly beautiful she looked in the afternoon light. He had really only seen her under the harsh conditions of the desert, when she had been martial and alien in her foreign colours. Under clear skies and young leaves she looked like a different person._

_He had always thought her complexion and hair to be perfectly white in colour - untouched, pure snow on the top of an unconquered mountain. But snow was too dead to describe her now – fresh milk in dawn light, was what his suddenly delirious mind supplied._

" _How long have you been out here?" she asked casually._

_Libra discerned her true question, but gave no indication of it. "I have been in this spot for a couple of hours." He stopped, waiting for a response, but Robin's silence prompted him to continue. "It is a peaceful spot. Good for clearing your head away from others. Private, even."_

_He didn't even have to look at her to know she understood. "It is lovely," she commented, leaning back to sun herself. "A secret place."_

" _Indeed," Libra agreed, before adding gently, "perhaps you'd like to bring one of the other Shepherds here?"_

_Robin appeared to give this some thought. "No." She rolled onto her side, propped up on one hand and the other draping elegantly over the rise of her hip. "Our little secret, I think." Their eyes locked again, and Libra felt a sense of finality run through him._

_What had been decided he had yet to discover, but he found himself nodding agreeably. "Just between us."_

* * *

"I didn't know you then," Libra said softly, breaking her reverie. "Not as I know you now. Two weeks into the campaign and you had been a rock for everyone. Chrom and Lissa needed you constantly, and when they weren't around someone else needed their tactician." He stared down at his hands. "I only figured out later that – "

He seemed to struggle with his words, and Robin unconsciously drew closer, until she was sitting a handspan from his knees. Robin knelt carefully before him, resting her hands over his.

"I decided I would serve you," he answered quietly. "In any way I could. I would be your friend, or your guardsman, or – or anything you required me to be. I did not have the faith of anyone besides the High Priest, but you immediately had faith in me."

"I have something for you," he said suddenly, and got up to lurch awkwardly over to the heavy locked chest at the foot of his cot. Robin watched him unlock and pry open the lid with some difficulty, prepared to step in the minute her fiercely independent priest looked to be tearing his stitches again.

He finally pulled out a thick roll of paper, and let the lid slam closed, heedless of the noise. He straightened up, and Robin was aware she was still crouched where he had sat. His eyes were dark in the lamplight, and she could see a faint sheen of sweat had settled on his forehead.

"I – " He moved closer to her, his footsteps slow and soft as though he was afraid of scaring her off. Robin stood just as slowly, unable and unwilling to tear her eyes away from him. The lamplight turned his hair to brilliant gold, and the black bodyglove of a shirt he wore did nothing to quell the sinuous heat which wound up her spine. It exposed no skin but Robin drank in the sight of him.

"I finished the portrait you requested," he finished breathlessly, holding it out in front of him. Robin took it slowly, her fingers brushing against his.

She unfurled it slowly, glancing at him every few seconds. His usually stoic demeanor was now definitely agitated, his hands opening and closing into fists and his breath came so erratically she worried he would collapse again.

Robin glanced down at the paper, her eyes taking a couple of seconds to really understand what she was seeing…and nearly let it fall to the ground. "Oh! Libra, this is – "

"It's you," he croaked, taking another step towards her. Robin was engrossed in the portrait now, her eyes wide.

"This is – too much," she laughed lightly, as breathless as Libra was, and continued to absorbed his artistry. He had caught her midturn, her hair streaming out behind her like a battle standard with her coat hems flaring dramatically. Despite her martial bearing, he had given her an element of gentleness that softened the overall effect. The tiny touches of colour here and there accented the piece, and next to the stately, wise woman enigmatically smiling from the page, Robin felt very foolish and filthy. "You flatter me. Gods above, you make me look so ravishing. No one is ever going to believe this is me!"

"I was not after a complete likeness." At her inquisitive glance he hurried to explain. "I only hoped to capture a fraction of the radiant beauty that suffuses you." Blatant flattery, her eyes teased, but he returned her gaze with a sincerity that ached to be caught in.

"Despite your faith in me, I don't believe I will ever be skilled enough to capture your perfection on canvas," he whispered, now only a couple of inches separating them, and as much as she loved the portrait it was being rapidly forgotten. "Perhaps I should leave such things to the gods."

Robin felt her cheeks almost light up at this, though she certainly wasn't truly present enough to be self-conscious over it. "Well, I must give you something in return, at least." Her hand snaked out to take one of his, and she laced their fingers together. "You have been more than a steadfast companion to me, Libra – what do you wish of me?"

His eyes, green-gold and intense, bore down on her own until she was certain he was looking at things even she didn't know flowered in the hidden corners of her soul. "Tell me…tell me what I am to you."

Robin released a breath she didn't know she had been holding, a tingle of anticipation shooting through her. Libra's free arm snaked possessively around her waist and pulled her closer, almost crushing the paper between them. An inch, Robin was certain of that, a bare inch separated them, and that was good because if he knew how her blood raged now Robin wasn't certain if she would take of embarrassment before she –

"You…" she said slowly, stalling for time until she got her pulse under control. Her hands would not be similarly ruled, and the picture was released to fall silently to the floor – her hands crept around to the small of Libra's back, the tips of her fingers pressingly lightly into the tense muscles there. His eyes darkened, and the deep inhale he sucked in briefly closed the gap between their bodies.

Though Libra was in her arms, a fact her mind was constantly shying away from for fear of it being another wistful dream, Robin pondered how to word something she had only begun to admit to herself in the last few weeks. It was like trying to describe a new colour outside of the shades and spectrums she knew.

Libra stirred, she felt his muscles bunch as he began to pull away, and she instructively tightened her grip. "Wait, no."

"No?" he asked, his voice slightly strained. "I apologise, Robin, I have overstepped – "

"Stop, I want to finish!" Robin burst over him. Libra obligingly fell silent again. "I mean to say, Libra…gods above know I am not poetic or artistic! But…" fear tried to seal shut Robin's vocal chords – she had done this before, held another like this before and it had ended with her staring at another woman in her wedding dress as deep-rooted bitterness curled around her soul. The destruction that always sang its euphoric song under her skin had been especially hard to quell –

"I was in a pit, one I had dug for myself," she began hoarsely, and cleared her throat to try again. Curiously, it made actually saying the words easier. "For weeks I left myself wide open, and I let everything hurt me. The congratulations to the royal couple, the morning updates, even the idle gossip from the street. I wanted it to hurt me, Libra, because I wanted to be so battered I could justify not going to the wedding and I could wallow some more in my own misery."

"Unfair, I doubt anyone would have faulted you for taking some time to mourn," Libra countered immediately, and Robin couldn't stop her mouth tilting up at the corners. He was loyal to a fault.

"Perhaps that is so, Libra, but I would have happily remained that way for a very long time." She sighed. "I never wanted to return to the castle. If the Plegians had rallied an army and stormed the gates I'd have tucked myself into my armchair and sulked into my biscuits. I never wanted to see anyone, ever again. A few people came and visited, knocked at the door." She searched his face, but he was drinking in her words, his face aopen and patient. "You were the only one who ever forced the door open. And you climbed in a window one day when I locked myself in the bathroom. You didn't try to open it. Just sat outside and hummed your bloody hymns until I came out and made you tea and cried again."

"I was prepared to hum all one hundred and forty seven verses of  _Oh Naga, Our Father_ ," Libra offered. "And repeat them for as long as possible."

"See! That's my point, right there!" Robin exclaimed, hardly even aware as Libra led them to his cot and sat them down. "Day of the wedding, I was feeling better but I was certain – dead certain I wasn't going. And you showed up at my door, made me get dressed in my best ceremonial attire and pushed me into a carriage. And Cordy was there, and Maribelle met us at the gates, and Lon'qu had threatened all the guards into bowing to me, and Gaius gave me a sticky kiss and a sweetroll, and Panne was digging up the royal hydrangeas and Tharja had hexed just about _everyone_ – " Robin inhaled deeply, suddenly at a loss. "But I know they were there because you brought them there. You sat with me through the ceremony, and got me laughing at the service afterwards, and you never let Chrom near me – "

"You'd have slapped him," Libra interjected, and Robin nodded in agreement.

"Can't say it wasn't a possibility. But treason didn't take place that day, because you kept me near the buffet, and danced with me, and got others to dance with me when you were off doing whatever you were doing and…and you supported me."

Robin gulped. "I was in this deep, dark pit, with thoughts I'd always ignored, and everyday I seemed to get more and more alone. And one day I looked up and you were there, offering me a hand and smiling."

"Robin, I – " Libra began.

"But I need to say this as well," Robin rushed, and he gave her a faintly offended look. "Sorry, but I feel like you're going to say you love me, I feel like that's what this is building to, and I am so frightened of even leaving this tent that I need to say it first, just in case you don't and it's really something I need to say - so let me go first." Robin inhaled sharply, and let it out. "I love you."

The silence between them stretched out longer than she anticipated, and for the first time she felt a tremor of uncertainty. She was smart, she was discerning, she knew how these things – was it possible she had made a mistake?

"You are so competitive," Libra said finally, and the hand winding into her hair went a long way towards assuaging Robin's fears.

"I am," she said honestly. "I love winning. And winning clean."

She made the first move – it was an easy one, she found in the end. His free hand rose naturally to her cheek as she lightly pressed her lips to his. It was chaste, at first, just the barest brushing, but it was Libra who pressed her closer and deepened the embrace.

She felt his inhaled sharply through his nose, his ribs jumping under her hands, and then his tongue was running over her parting lips, slipping in to touch her own tongue almost reverently, her hands were tangled in his hair as thoroughly as her locks own was caught up, and the sounds coming from his throat was sending that familiar heat to her stomach but it was so much  _better_  –

"Wait, Robin," Libra gasped out as he wrenched them apart, and she couldn't help the growl of annoyance and betrayal that slipped out. He looked pain, and flushed, and slightly disbelieving, but he was determined through all that.

"Libra! That's – "

"I know, I just need to say…" now he seemed to be the one struggling. "I didn't want to be one of those men. My courtship experience is limited, but I had heard plenty of complaints from the other girls, of men who pursued their hand under the guise of friendship. I wanted to help you, but for the life of me I couldn't help falling in love with you. I feared you would take my motives as impure, and I wished only to be near you."

"Then…it doesn't bother you?" Robin finally asked.  _You should talk to him_. "That…that scandal, in the camp – "

"No scandal for me," Libra finally croaked, and he swallowed hard. "Not for me."

"You mean – "

"One or one hundred," he breathed. "It wouldn't matter to me, if you had taken a hundred lovers. Who you  _are_  was not carved into being by the lover you lost; you are beautiful, charming, intelligent, brave and kind because that is what you want to be. I don't care for what anyone thinks of your past, whether that person is a rogue or our own exalt. If you would spend your future with me, I would consider myself blessed, truly blessed."

It seemed like something he had wanted to say for a long time.

"You're a fool priest," Robin declared tenderly. "A fool priest with a dozen urchins peppering my house, new wings being added on and – gods, we have children already. I fear we've missed a few vital steps."

Even amidst her theatrics, he was smiling. That tiny, delicate smile, now suffused with such delight she couldn't believe she was the source of it. It made her want to cup her hands to his face and breathe, whisper, tease until it glowed brighter.

His hands wound through her hair again, and he watched it cascade through his fingers. "Naga has blessed me."

"I beg to differ," Robin murmured. "I must have done something very right, or very wrong, for such a saint to be sent to me. It's enough to drive a woman to church."

Libra smiled again. She liked him doing that. "That could be arranged."

* * *

"Aren't you going to say something?"

"Say something?"

"You  _know_ …after what I said."

"Oh, of course, Robin. I would love to move in."

" _Libra_."

"Oh, was there something else?"

"Fine, I'll play along. Yes, say something about the other thing."

"Oh, but I need say no more. I have said my piece. My actions speak louder than my words, anyhow."

"You  _sassy_  – mmph!"

* * *

"I do love you, Robin."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed and gave kudos, and to those who enjoyed it otherwise! You're the best!


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